[Somehow the sound of the piano is more disconcerting to him than the memory. It snaps him back to reality, fully aware of where he is and when. He reaches out to touch the keys, as if insuring that Paul didn't do any harm before nodding.
He doesn't want to be delicate. Or fragile. Or invulnerable either. Too many people have deemed him to be one or the other.]
I know. Just a memory.
[One of those memories that doesn't hurt that much because it was so familiar. Now and then it might twinge, like an old injury that aches a little when it's cold. It's long lost all its edges, its ability to cut and cause pain, now it's just a discomfort.
He reaches out and gently grips Paul's shoulder as if he also needs to be drawn back into the waking world.]
no subject
He doesn't want to be delicate. Or fragile. Or invulnerable either. Too many people have deemed him to be one or the other.]
I know. Just a memory.
[One of those memories that doesn't hurt that much because it was so familiar. Now and then it might twinge, like an old injury that aches a little when it's cold. It's long lost all its edges, its ability to cut and cause pain, now it's just a discomfort.
He reaches out and gently grips Paul's shoulder as if he also needs to be drawn back into the waking world.]