(each second that he spends in this dream, the more he realizes that he never wants to do this again, whatever exactly this is. he can't tell, the flimsy realization of what is dream, what is reality, and whether either of them belong to him can't be anything other than that. dream-like qualities of what might as well be a reality boggle, and he tilts his head much like he has seen spock do so many times. a habit that he doesn't have in another life, one that is much far away.
he listens, because he must, but he doesn't know just what to do. his words come out, and they're not his, and there's even more expectancy of an answer, of a decision.
peter's hand just holds the one belonging to his older self-not-self. please, solve it.)
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he listens, because he must, but he doesn't know just what to do. his words come out, and they're not his, and there's even more expectancy of an answer, of a decision.
peter's hand just holds the one belonging to his older self-not-self. please, solve it.)