[ But he wonders, too, if this is a dream he can't wake up from. This nightmare that he can't cast away and disregard. Maybe he really is a figment of Vector's imagination and that would be. better.
(better because then this wouldn't be real, and this wouldn't be happening to him)
(but he wants to be real) ]
I'm. Real.
And.
You know because--
[ He moves without thinking again, and he just does, and he blames it on his need for something remotely related to Barian World and not his conscious decision, but.
He steps forward again. And again. And again. And reaches out, slowly, for Vector. He presses his fingers against Vector's skin--the rock that covers his frame, and the feeling of something familiar under his fingers makes him inhale.
That's-- ]
--because I can do this.
[ He brushes his fingers over the gem on his arm. The one embedded in the hand Vector uses to draw. He doesn't quite touch it, just, ghosts his fingers over it. Touches it like he would if he were Barian, and he knows that part of the gem where it's best and--
(he loses his grip on reality. it slides out of his fangs, slips away, runs away, and he isn't sure he wants to give chase)
--he presses down on it. ]
Because I know.
I am real.
[ The lapis across his chest glows, almost shines, just almost there, he can feel it, but it's not there yet.
(not this, this can't be happening, that he would ever do this with Vector, but)
(he yearns for his song, yearns for it so much--)
(he wants Vector to sing)
(sing so he knows he can still understand the stars and that Vector is a star and so is he) ]
no subject
[ But he wonders, too, if this is a dream he can't wake up from. This nightmare that he can't cast away and disregard. Maybe he really is a figment of Vector's imagination and that would be. better.
(better because then this wouldn't be real, and this wouldn't be happening to him)
(but he wants to be real) ]
I'm. Real.
And.
You know because--
[ He moves without thinking again, and he just does, and he blames it on his need for something remotely related to Barian World and not his conscious decision, but.
He steps forward again. And again. And again. And reaches out, slowly, for Vector. He presses his fingers against Vector's skin--the rock that covers his frame, and the feeling of something familiar under his fingers makes him inhale.
That's-- ]
--because I can do this.
[ He brushes his fingers over the gem on his arm. The one embedded in the hand Vector uses to draw. He doesn't quite touch it, just, ghosts his fingers over it. Touches it like he would if he were Barian, and he knows that part of the gem where it's best and--
(he loses his grip on reality. it slides out of his fangs, slips away, runs away, and he isn't sure he wants to give chase)
--he presses down on it. ]
Because I know.
I am real.
[ The lapis across his chest glows, almost shines, just almost there, he can feel it, but it's not there yet.
(not this, this can't be happening, that he would ever do this with Vector, but)
(he yearns for his song, yearns for it so much--)
(he wants Vector to sing)
(sing so he knows he can still understand the stars and that Vector is a star and so is he) ]
This.
Is real.