Being Known and Understood is so painful to Michael - it’s a sickening, thrilling, delightful kind of pain that does Not Make Sense, and it should hate it. It DOES hate it - and yet, and yet, and yet…
Michael leaned closer, a shudder wracking its frame. Like basking in a clarifying light that highlighted all that was wrong with it, and it was wrong and yet-
It didnt make sense. This … want.
But when does anything make sense with the Distortion?
Elias should Not Be Able to Touch Michael. Michael should not be tangible unless it wished it. And yet that is very much pressure against its arm, a very real and human heat sinking into its body, and Michael finds itself still. Caught. Held prisoner by the vile green glow of the Watcher as he was Seen. The hand pressed so gently against the sharp planes of Michael’s own felt like a burning manacle.
Thrilled, disgusted, elated, Michael let out an echoing laugh that bordered on hysterical. Elias flinched in pain at the sound, but his grin widened, and his Gaze held steady. He was afraid, but then again, so was Michael - and wasn’t that just terrible?
“Are you sure you want to play this game, Michael?” Elias’ words shivered with a faint rasp.
