[He feels it too. The disconnect from a sure and certain reality as new-old memories rush in to reveal the deception and make this existence a memory too. Ice-water is a fair analogy. The last time he felt this he'd been trying, failing to keep his head above the frozen sea.
This time realisation dawns with a hot flush (and it's not the first time this weekend he's felt the sensation creeping up the back of his neck, but before that it was something he'd - largely - gotten over by the age of nineteen). Her hands unclasp their hold on him and his, locked to her waist, for a moment grip tighter. Just for a second more. Just to finish this one thing and let some kid he'd never quite been get it right.
It's chaste by adult standards, but not dispassionate for it.
He really, probably, should have taken the chance to pull away. Instead he pulls back perhaps the breadth of a breath and opens his eyes.]
→ we are not what you think we are we are golden
This time realisation dawns with a hot flush (and it's not the first time this weekend he's felt the sensation creeping up the back of his neck, but before that it was something he'd - largely - gotten over by the age of nineteen). Her hands unclasp their hold on him and his, locked to her waist, for a moment grip tighter. Just for a second more. Just to finish this one thing and let some kid he'd never quite been get it right.
It's chaste by adult standards, but not dispassionate for it.
He really, probably, should have taken the chance to pull away. Instead he pulls back perhaps the breadth of a breath and opens his eyes.]