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„I'll meet you there. Friend,“ John said softly and then he felt Arthur stop breathing. The boat, the distant sound of waves gently beating against it, the bright red slowly flowing out of Arthur, all of it vanished into darkness.
For a moment there was nothing else, the darkness behind Arthur's eyelids the only thing he saw.
And then the darkness changed and John had never been so scared before. If he could, he would have kept his -theirs, Arthur's, whoever could still claim ownership of this body now that it was gone- eyes shut tightly, try to force the dark back into one he was used to.
It would not work. He knew that. He could not escape this, could only foolishy attempt to delay the inevitable truth of his situation.
John exhaled softly and then he opened his eyes. Or he tried to at least. But there was nothing he saw, only darkness and for a moment he felt panic shoot through him. Darkness, he knew. Darkness he feared.
Darkness he remembered from the Dark World.
But this darkness, he then thought, it wasn’t like the Dark World. Though he could not even truly remember what it had really looked like beyond the darkness at this point, only remembered how it had felt. It was enough to know he never wanted to return there. Enough for him to hope that wherever he was, Arthur hadn't ended up there either.
He slowly raised his hand, allowing himself a moment to marvel at his ability to do so, before trying to feel his face.
It felt ... human, he supposed. Lips, a nose, hair that felt rather too long and unkempt. Normal human hair though, he thought, no tentacles or anything else unexpected. He had skipped his eyes on purpose on the brief exploration of this face that might be his own but now he slowly forced himself to let his fingers wander down to them.
Trepidation, he thought. Fear of what he'd find. Or maybe wouldn't. Maybe he just ... shouldn't. Arthur likely would have argued about this, if he had been here. Would have come up with a bunch of inane arguments, ignore every single one of John's logical counterpoints, make a stupid decision and fuck them both over.
But Arthur wasn't here. It was just John. Very carefully he touched his eyes, feeling relieved when he felt eyelids and firmness beneath. Least there is something, he thought. But why can't I see?
Suddenly there was a sharp sting running through his body, a lightning bolt of pain on a level he had never felt before. His knees crumbled and John fell to the ground, mouth opening as he tried to let out a scream but unable to do so, his body too overcome with the drumming pain to do anything else.
W-what's going on?!
And then the pain vanished in an instance as John heard a voice. For a moment John wondered if he had died or if the pain had broken some part of his newly acquired body to the point where he was hallucinating.
John? John, where the hell are we?
Arthur's voice sounded scared and confused, something John was used to at this point. He was less used to hearing his voice inside his head.
"Arthur," he said, slowly, testing out his vocal chords. It felt strange to make sounds like this, to be able to produce words in a tangible way. "Arthur, is that you?" There were probably smarter things to waste his first words on. But John could still feel the aftershocks of the pain that had shot through this body, its lingering memory and really couldn't be bothered to think of something better. And part of him just wanted it to be Arthur. Desperately so.
Who else would I be?
A shaky laugh, echoing slightly in his head, the fear underneath it obvious.
John, I can't move my body.
"Yes," John said, trying to sound comforting and calming. It wouldn't do, he thought, Arthur having a panic attack right now. "There is..."
I can see again, John.
Arthur's interruption stopped John mid-sentence.
"What."
I can see again, John. It's ... there's whiteness here, a very ... bright one though it doesn't look like we're outside, I wonder where the light is coming from and...
"You can see," John said, voice flat. Slowly he raised a hand and waved it in front of what he until now had considered to be his new face. "You see this too?"
It's a hand but I can neither move nor feel it. Somebody else must be controlling it.
"Yes. Me."
There was a moment of stunned silence during which John could feel the full weight of their situation sink in.
Fuck, Arthur then said.
"Agreed," John answered
Why is this ... why is this happening?
"I don't know," John said softly. Arthur sounded even more lost than usual.
But you must know something! You said, back on the boat, you said you'd meet me in the Dark World? Is it this place?!
"I don't know," John repeated, feeling irritation rush through him. Weird, he thought, how his emotions still felt like before, even as he now was in possession of something that could actually produce physical evidence of them.
You must know. Is this one of those things you don't tell me, like with Parker?! Are you lying and...
"Arthur, I don't know because I can't fucking see!"
He felt his breath coming quicker and his fist clenching tightly, none of which were commands he had given this body actively. He wondered just why exactly he had missed Arthur just minutes ago.
Okay, Arthur then said, in that voice that John knew meant he very much was not okay but wasn't about to say what he actually felt. I'll describe what I see, you tell me if it's ... that place.
"Yes," John said. There was a moment of silence.
Uh, I need you to ... you need to move your head, Arthur then said.
"Oh. Right," John said, feeling foolish for having forgotten. Slowly he moved his head, remembering how annoying it was to have Arthur just wildly twist his head around without giving him any chance to actually see.
Okay, Arthur then said after a short pause. Like I said, there is the white. It feels clinical in a way almost? Like a hospital only it's not a building we are in though I am really not sure just what it is we are in. There are glimmering shards that look like, move a bit to the right, yes, like that ... oh.
"What?" John said, feeling impatience and wariness grow inside of him.
It's mirrors. Hundreds or thousands of them. Hard to notice at first but once you know they are there, they are everywhere.
"Mirrors?" There maybe had been mirrors in the Dark World. There maybe hadn't. There likely had been way more things that weren't just mirrors though.
If you go right, we can see one up close.
"Are you mad, Arthur?!"
What, he said. What other options do we have. There is nothing else here, John, just white and the mirrors.
It felt like one of those arguments where Arthur would stubbornly insist that they just needed to know. John let out a sigh, surprising himself briefly as he actually felt the quiet exhale of air.
"Okay," he then said, remembering Arthur's anger with him. "To the right, you said?"
Yes, it's a few steps. Just ... stop here.
Obediently John did stop. He wasn't particularly fond of this, even if it had just been a few steps. Blindly waddling around in the dark, completely reliant on Arthur, with no way to see any potential danger coming.
"What do you see?" he asked Arthur. It had been a while since Arthur had seen himself, John thought. He couldn't help but be curious how Arthur would react to it.
I see .... a hill, Arthur said though.
"What?"
A hill, Arthur repeated. A pretty normal one. The sun is shining and the sky is blue and it just seems all very normal and pleasant.
There was something in Arthur's voice, John hadn't heard before, couldn't really pin down.
It reminds me of the hill behind the house I grew up in actually, Arthur went on and John realized he sounded wistful.
I used to climb it and then roll down, over and over again, until my clothes were green with grass stains. You know, one of those silly things children sometimes do.
John didn't know. "Is that all?" he asked loudly.
If there was something else, I'd have told you, came Arthur's slightly tetchy answer.
"But are you sure? There must be something else. Why would there be a hill reflected in the mirror? This is not helping us, Arthur." Frustration tasted bitter on this tongue.
Guess you now know how I feel whenever some new puzzle piece appears that refuses to fit, Arthur said, voice pointed.
John let out another silent sigh. "A different mirror then," he suggested. "Maybe there will be more answers."
Right, right. I think there is one to our left. Silently John started walking. A thought occurred to him then suddenly.
"Arthur," he said, lifting the hand up again. "Do you ... is this your hand?"
A moment of silence. I ... don't think so, Arthur then said. I know my hands and my fingers and these aren't ... they are less thin, I suppose? Not the fingers of a piano player, I’d say.
"The fingers of somebody who does not play piano," John said, not sure how to feel. So it wasn't Arthur's body he was controlling right now. Whose was it then?
Maybe not, but the fingers look like they belong to somebody who could learn.
John felt a weird shudder run down the spine of this body at Arthur's words. Annoyed he quickened his steps. Better keep walking before this body failed them, he thought.
Stop. There's the mirror.
Another long moment of silence as John impatiently waited for Arthur to tell him what he was seeing.
It's ... a man, Arthur then finally said.
"Very helpful."
I am trying! He has his back turned, though he looks normal enough, even if his clothes are a bit shoddy and dirty looking. I think I've seen these types of trousers around actually, they are the cheap type that workers get, a lot of pockets you can use to...
"Arthur, focus," John interrupted him.
Right, right sorry, it's just ... it feels like I've seen this somewhere before and ... wait, he's turning around and oh. John, it's Eddie.
"Who?"
Eddie. The building maintenance of my office building . The one...
"The one we killed."
Coldness slowly started spreading through John and was this what having a body was like?
Why is he in the mirror, John?
"I have no idea." John said. He only knew that it didn't make sense. If this was the Dark World, there would not be any mirrors showing something as mundane as dead janitors. Just what type of place is this, he wondered
Wait, Arthur then said. There's more it seems like ... it's moving. The mirror, it's moving closer to Eddie and ... there's a gun, John. And it's ... somebody ... they are shooting Eddie.
Arthur's voice grew quiet, breaking off completely and John had raised his hands before he even realized it so he could do ... what exactly? Put the hands over Arthur's eyes to try and shield him from whatever he was seeing?
Eddie has fallen to the ground, Arthur continued quietly. Bleeding out. Blood spreading around his body on the tiled floor.
"Blue tiles?" John asked softly. "And blood on the hands, right?"
Yes. John, is that ... am I ...
"Yes, Arthur. That's how it happened when you ... when we shot Eddie."
Why is this here?! Why am I seeing this ... this retelling of what has happened?!
Something stirred inside John's mind.
"The hill," he said slowly. "The one you saw in the other mirror. You said it reminded you of one you knew?"
Yes, Arthur said quickly, seemingly happy to have something else to focus on. The hill behind my house. I was young so I don't fully recall what I looked like but...
"In the mirror, did it feel like the ground was close? As if from whose perspective you were seeing it from was a small child?"
He could almost feel the moment Arthur put the pieces together.
You think it's a memory. My memory. From when I was a child?
"Yes, given what we've seen in this mirror, it seems to point at this direction."
But why? There was frustration again in Arthur's voice. If we assume all of these mirrors are my ... my memories, just why? What the hell is this place?
"I don't know."
Am I dead?
"...I don't know." Worry and fear and it wasn't Arthur's because he couldn't feel the man's emotions which was probably for the best, but the intensity of them surprised him. Fear, not just for himself and his survival and wellbeing, but rather for Arthur's too. Maybe even more, he thought, for Arthur's than his own.
"Arthur, let's go and find another mirror."
Why? Arthur's voice sounded dull and listless inside his head. What does it even matter. I ... I died, didn't I? I died and this is hell or purgatory or whatever. What use is this anymore. Any of it?
"Arthur, don't..." John wasn't sure what to say. He had seen Arthur scared. Angry and desperate and close to loosing it. He had never seen him hopeless before.
Friend, he had called Arthur, in those few moments on the boat when he had felt Arthur slipping away from this world. Away from him.
He had truly meant it, he realized. And he had been prepared to help escape Arthur in the Dark World. He would do the same here.
"Because we don't know what this place is yet. Maybe there is a way out. Somehow."
A sudden thought occurred to him and he slowly reached for the left hand of this body, putting the right one on top of it. He couldn't feel the touch.
"I believe that there has to be a way out." He hoped Arthur could.
I ... okay. Let's try. There is another mirror straight ahead.
John let go of the left hand, feeling a curious brief pang of loss as he did so.
"The mirrors or rather memories do not seem to be in any specific order," he said as he started walking. There was no answer coming from Arthur but John pressed on.
"Your childhood memory of the hill was closest to the memory of ... the other memory even though many years must have passed between those two."
Decades, Arthur said. He sounded a bit more alive though, a pondering note in his voice now. Give a private detective a puzzle to solve, John thought, slightly amused.
If there's a system, we might not have found it yet. Though even if we did, what would it matter.
It was a sign of how serious the situation was that Arthur being faced with the possibility of collecting a meaningless snippet of information wasn't followed by a foolish burst of optimism on his part, John thought.
"We will see. Are we close to the mirror yet? I would prefer not accidentally running into it"
Oh, yes, sorry. We are almost there, I can already see what…
He broke off. John felt himself frown. It was not a good feeling, he thought, having the voice in your head, the only thing able to tell you about the world, about its lurking dangers and horrors, go completely silent on you.
"Arthur, what do you see?" he prompted. Arthur remained silent.
A memory of the island, their argument and the police arresting Arthur as John just watched, saying nothing, came to him and he felt a pang of something. Uncomfortable and stinging and entirely irritatingly human, as were all those feelings he kept having about Arthur.
“Arthur? What is it?!” Still no answer.
He tried to focus on his other senses, anything that might help and then he could hear something, faintly coming from somewhere close to him.
Water, he thought. The sound of running water.
Get closer, Arthur suddenly said. His voice sounded weird.
"Arthur, what...?"
Get closer to the fucking mirror, John!
John had never heard Arthur like this before. This wasn't just anger, it was something more.
Hesitantly he took a step closer. "Arthur, what do you see?" he tried once more.
But Arthur had gone silent again and all John could hear was the sound of running water coming from the mirror.
"Arthur…"
I could have ... I should have ... if I hadn't been so goddamn selfish!
John flinched at the vitriol in Arthur's voice, the intense hate in it. He had no idea what to say.
I need to save her. I need to save her, Arthur mumbled. There was a feverish note in his voice, mixing with the desperate loathing in it. John, raise your hand.
"Arthur, I don't think this is a good idea..."
I need to fucking save her, John! Arthur screamed.
And then without his doing, his left arm suddenly shot forward towards the mirror. The sound of water was everywhere all of a sudden, echoing in what felt like a small tiled room and his feet felt wet as inside his head Arthur kept talking.
No, no, please, no. Weeping.
Please, please no! Screaming.
Of all the things they had gone through, all the humanity John had experienced, he could not remember having ever come across this much pain as he was hearing in Arthur’s voice.
Without thinking John ripped his arm, still stretched out, away and the sound of water running disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared.
John stumbled back, almost falling down as he tried to find his footing. His breath was coming fast and harsh, some absent-minded part of his brain noting it as another sign of this body's physical reaction to his feelings.
"Arthur," he said. "What the fuck?!"
He felt bad mere moments after this outburst. The memory of Arthur's voice, his desperate pleading, the utter pain underneath it still weighted heavily on his mind.
"Are you okay?" he added, voice softer.
I ... what happened?
"I pulled us out of the mirror."
What mirror?
"The one right in front of us!" John exploded. The one he probably should turn away from, least Arthur tried to return to it to save her. Whoever she was.
There is no mirror, Arthur's voice interrupted his pondering though.
"What," John said flatly. "It's right there, we ... or rather you touched it just moments ago!"
There is no mirror, John. I don't ... what happened? We were just on our way to another mirror, weren't we?
Was he lying, John wondered. Was this some kind of trick of Arthur so he could try to return to whatever he had been seeing in the mirror?
But Arthur's voice sounded genuinely confused and more importantly, there was none of the anger and desperation as he had yelled inside John's head left in his voice.
"You really don't remember what happened?" John asked warily. "We looked at the mirror, touched it and then suddenly it felt like ... like we were inside of it."
Oh, Arthur still sounded surprised. That's interesting. What was it like? What did I see?
Something awful, John wanted to say. Wanted to ask just what it had been, what past memory of Arthur had caused him this much pain, seemed to be haunting him to this day.
But, he then thought, would that just open up this wound? Make it worse. He had no desire to see Arthur bleed. Neither on the boat, red turning black around them nor here, wherever here was, where John could see nothing but could hear how much this had hurt Arthur.
"Nothing of consequence," he said, trying to sound casual. "Some ... old case of your that led you to a ... river, it seemed."
Damn the truth, he thought. What good would it do the two anyway.
Oh, okay, Arthur said. But we went inside of it, right? The mirror or the memory. Maybe we can do that with the memory of the boat too?
"But what use would that be? Being trapped in a memory of dying."
Maybe it's not memories? The dream I had, this place ... look, maybe we can change the memory or whatever it is?
"We have no idea if this would work." John felt more than reluctant to experience what just happened again.
Look, you said you don't know what this place is. And it's more of a clue than we had before.
"I guess," John said reluctantly. "You have a point, I suppose."
He turned around. "Let's keep going until we find another mirror. It's not like I have any better an idea."
To our right, a bit more in the distance, Arthur said.
"More walking then it is."
Now you know how I feel.
"Unlike you I haven't been in a coma though for one month."
Arthur chuckled inside his head, genuine amusement underneath it. Another shudder of something ran down John's spine at the sound.
I suppose but it's not like you get hungry. Or tired.
A pause then.
Or do you? Considering you have your own body now? Arthur sounded genuinely curious.
"It hasn't been that long," John said. Though he also felt a pang of curiosity. This body, was it as human in its need as it was in its physical reactions? He realized suddenly that he had been breathing, unconsciously but consistently, since he had awoken like this.
A pity there's no food here, Arthur said.
"Why?"
I'd like to see your reaction to it. Tea especially. Though you'd probably prefer coffee, like most people here.
"I aim to displease."
Another soft chuckle.
"How much closer to the mirror?”
A few more steps. I wonder what will be in there.
"Let's hope it's the boat. Though I would also not be opposed to something as peaceful as the hill from your childhood."
What hill?
Something cold shot through John. "The hill from the first mirror, Arthur. The one from your childhood home," he said slowly.
There was no hill at my childhood home.
John stopped.
"Arthur," he said, trying to keep his voice level. "This is not the time for jokes."
I am not joking! The confusion in Arthur's voice turned into indignation. Why would I lie about this? There was no hill at my childhood home.
John was tempted to burrow his head in his hands. Instead he slowly turned around at the direction they had come from.
"The other mirror, over there. A bit further away than where we came from, several steps to the left."
There is no mirror there, John.
The cold that had run through John solidified in his chest. A thought occurred to him suddenly of Arthur's description of the place they were in. How vast the space was. How spaced out the mirrors containing Arthur's memories were.
Just emptiness between one of Arthur's childhood memories and him having killed Eddie mere months ago.
"Arthur,” he said slowly. “Tell me about Parker."
Who?
Fuck, John thought.
"Fuck," he cursed out loudly. "Arthur you are ... this place, it's making you forget."
Or worse, he thought. Worse it's was merely reflecting what was happening to Arthur. Mind in here with John, body out there. Still bleeding, still slipping away. Moving to where John might not be able to follow.
His heart was beating painfully hard in his chest.
"We need to find the fucking mirror with the boat."
I ... yes, to your right, John. Arthur mumbled in his head. No doubt caught in his own thoughts, John thought.
He started walking again, trying to ignore the uproar of the body he was occupying. A heart, pumping as much blood through veins as possible, trying to prepare for a fight his brain wasn't even sure was coming. Almost hurting him in the process. Because of what? Some part of him wondering how much of Arthur was left? How much could still slip away before he'd forget everything? Forget John? Forget himself?
Hearts and bodies and feelings, he thought, irritation spiking somewhere underneath the cold fear, still weighting heavily on his chest. Why did humans do this to themselves? It suddenly was hard to breathe.
Deep breaths, John, Arthur then suddenly said in his head. Just ... breathe in. Breathe out. Panic won't help us here.
John hadn't even realized he was almost hyperventilating. He tried to concentrate on Arthur's voice.
In and out, Arthur said softly. Like that John.
His breath was becoming slower, more regular as he allowed himself to sink into Arthur's voice.
"Thanks," he said when he felt like he could breathe again. It's okay, Arthur said. I figured you wouldn't have much practice with a human body after all.
"I ... no. I guess I don't"
It's fine, I am here to help you.
His heart was still beating too fast but with Arthur in his head, it was more bearable. John cleared his throat, feeling his checks suddenly flush with the faint impression of heat.
"We're close to the mirror yet?" he asked, trying to focus on something beside this body and its feelings.
A few more steps and ... oh. Oh, fuck!
"What?" John asked alarmed.
It's breaking. There are cracks forming in it and ... the mirror shards that are falling off! They are disappearing, John!
"Dammit," John growled. "Is it the boat, Arthur? Can you still see something in the mirror?
It's ... it's a face. I don't ... I can't remember whose face it is, John.
Pain again in Arthur's voice. The face of a dear friend, John wondered. Of family or a past lover? Not that it mattered, John thought, abruptly turning away from the mirror.
"Another mirror, Arthur,” he said, voice urgent. They were running out of time.
I ... it's ...
"Tell me where another mirror is, Arthur!"
His outburst seemed to pull Arthur out of whatever stupor he was in.
Right, go on straight.
John started running, not bothering to listen to more precise directions.
Just a few more steps ... dammit, it's breaking too!
"Another one then, Arthur!" There was panic now in Arthur's voice and maybe his own too. His hands were shaking violently and his breath was coming fast again.
To your right, no, that one is also ... our left, no, there is ... John, they are all breaking apart.
"There has to be one left!" He needed there to be one left.
I see nothing. Only white. White and nothing all around us. Just ... just nothing.
The hopelessness was returning to Arthur’s voice. He was growing more quiet, more distant, even in John's head. And John couldn't help, couldn't grab him and shake some sense into him, couldn't pull him back from wherever he was drifting away to.
But he could do this. He grabbed his left hand and pressed. His fingernails bored into the palm of the hand, and he hoped it hurt.
"Use my fucking eyes, Arthur!"
Hoped it was enough to get Arthur back to him.
There was a noise, a gasp of something that might be pain and then Arthur was talking again, voice a bit more firmer.
Let me ... let me look. Turn right, slowly and... There. Over there. To our left.
Excitement mixed with faint hope inside John. He started running again, not caring if he'd crash headfirst into the mirror, as long as he was getting himself and Arthur there before it also broke apart. For once the extra blood being pumped through his body was good for something.
"How far Arthur?!" he yelled.
Who's Arthur?
He almost stumbled.
"No," he then growled. "No, no. You aren't allowed to do that. Where's that mirror?!"
There's a mirror right there, Arthur said in his head. He sounded nothing like Arthur though. His voice was distant and without any infliction or emotion.
John abruptly stopped, turning towards the right, hoping he was looking in the right direction. It was terrifying, he thought. All of this, but right now especially the darkness in this space that seemed to be nothing but bright white.
"What do you see?" he asked, almost yelled at Arthur.
Where?
Arthur's voice was growing weaker and weaker inside his head, John realized with growing horror. Not just more distant but more quiet too. Lifeless.
"The mirror, what do you see in the mirror?!"
Oh... I see blue.
Blue as the water of a lake, John thought. Or the sky? Or blue like the eyes of somebody Arthur had forgotten and John couldn't remember for him?
I see red.
Blood. Maybe. It didn't matter, John thought. He yanked his hands up, blindly grabbing for the mirror. His hands hit the surface painfully hard and he let out a hiss of pain. The mirror felt weirdly warm against his right hand and for a moment he almost could hear the sound of water gently swapping against a solid object. But nothing else happened.
"Why isn't this working?!"
Why isn't what working?
Arthur's voice was so far away now and he would loose him John realized. Arthur would slip away and he'd be completely on his own, in this nothing of a place, where nothing what had made Arthur into Arthur remained.
His right hand slipped down the mirror, colliding with his left one, the one Arthur controlled now, and for a moment John wanted to reach out for it. If it had to end like this, he thought, at least he'd feel something else beside fear.
And maybe there was some small mercy in Arthur not being scared, in him not having to remember whatever had made him desperate enough reach for that other mirror.
The idea flashed through him.
"Arthur, touch the mirror!"
Why?
If they survived this, John swore to himself, he'd never be angry with the Arthur who threw himself head first into any potential danger he couldn't see.
"Just do it!" he almost yelled.
Why? There is red. Why would I touch the red?
"Because you will die otherwise!" John was yelling now. "And you need to not die!"
Why?
"Because if you do I will be stuck here, completely on my own and I don't want that. I want to go back there, I want to find out just what the hell happened to us, I want for me to get out of your body!"
The words seemed to flow out of John completely on their own.
"And I want to get my own body, I want to try tea and see what I think of it, I want to listen to you playing piano with my own ears, I want you to teach my how to play piano and I want you not to die!"
And then pulling every last bit of righteous anger and fear into it, he screamed.
"So touch the fucking mirror, Arthur!"
For a moment there was nothing. Then John felt Arthur's hand, lightly touching his, uncurling and moving.
And then the world exploded. The darkness around John was replaced with a sudden brightness, white so overwhelming, John could feel his eyes tear up.
He looked down quickly, trying to protect his eyes at least a bit and was surprised to not see the mirror anymore but rather just hands. Two pairs of them, one just a vague outline, barely noticeable in the brightness of their surroundings.
He blinked through the tears in his eyes and the hands seemed to become more visible, more grounded almost.
"Arthur?" he asked softly, almost afraid of the answer.
"John?" Arthur's answer didn't come from inside his head. Surprised John looked up.
Across from him, the outline of a man was forming. His face was not yet fully visible but he stared at John with an expression of surprise. And something else John couldn't identify. In the distance John heard the sound of waves growing stronger.
"John is that ... is that you?" There was marvel in Arthur's voice underneath the surprise, as he kept looking at John and his face. It felt too heavy all of a sudden and John dropped his gaze to his hands, unable suddenly to keep looking into Arthur's eyes, growing more and more visible and expressive by the second.
Arthur had been right, he thought distantly. These hands, his hands, they weren't the hands of a piano player. Suddenly Arthur's hands grabbed his though and John startled at the sudden contact. Warm, he thought. Arthur's hands were warm around his.
"You're fading, John," Arthur said, sounding distressed. He hadn't even realized it until now but Arthur was right. While Arthur's hands and body were growing more solid by the second, John's hand seemed to slowly wash out. Looking up again, he was almost able to make out the color of Arthur's eyes now.
The sound of waves grew even stronger.
"I think it worked, Arthur. We're going back to the boat."
"Never thought I'd look forward to returning to a ghost ship and the horrible lake creature underneath it."
A soft chuckle escaped John. Arthur's expression softened.
"Thanks," he said. "I ... I don't remember everything that happened but I remember you being there."
"It wasn't like I could have just gotten rid of you."
"You could have." Arthur let go of his hands and John missed their warmth instantly.
But then Arthur reached out, softly touching John's cheek and suddenly it felt warm everywhere.
If that was what it felt like to be touched, John thought, feeling stunned, he was surprised humans didn't do it constantly.
"You could have just let me slip away and keep ... this," Arthur said.
"I wouldn't have," John answered without thinking and it was the truth, he realized after he said it. He wouldn't have.
Friend, he had called Arthur back on the lake and with Arthur standing there, looking at him, touching him, it felt completely inadequate a word for just how he felt about Arthur. How the warmth spreading from Arthur's touch made him feel.
"We'll figure something out," Arthur mumbled. He was blinking, squinting his eyes and John wondered if it was becoming harder for him to see, just how it was becoming more difficult for John to feel his body.
John tried to look down again to see just how much of his hands were left but Arthur's hand kept his head upright, so he kept looking at him."
"No," he said. "Let me just ... while I still can, let me just ... look."
"I...," John began and he could feel the touch fading, his body disappearing, so why made the way Arthur looked at him feel more intense, more real than anything he had felt before.
Feeling this strongly, he thought, how foolish of humans.
"Yes," he still said as he kept looking at Arthur. "Yes, Arthur."
And with Arthur watching and the ever growing sound of waves, he just felt for as long as he could.