a.u.

Chapter Twenty-two: Where the Heart is

Damian tried to pin down the exact day and time the realization set in, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. The days were running together so closely and so symmetrically now that he could barely differentiate between Monday and Fridays.

He remembered the moment, though. He remembered that moment clearly. Just as clearly as the swarm of misfit memories still floating around in his head.

It was in the morning, he recalled. Or at least, he was pretty sure it was the morning. It was the exact moment he exited his bedroom and met the rest of the house. And suddenly, without any warning, everything felt 2D.

It was like living in a house made of paper and pencil. Each wall, every picture hanging in the hallway felt flimsy, like a grade school student had just cut it out of construction paper and colored it with one of those thick Crayola crayons. It felt like it would all crumple at the touch of his hand.

Even as he exited the house and got into his car, it felt like everything was about to break at any moment. Hell, even the people on the street seemed like stick figures to him, two-dimensional beings with no depth and no real weight in this world. His world.

And that feeling persisted. It continued through the day. He tapped the keyboard at work with ginger fingers, trying to inflict as little collateral damage as possible. His conversations with coworkers were quiet. He was almost afraid that they would be blown over if he raised his voice anymore. They didn't notice. The water at the water cooler went down like liquid cellophane.

Nothing ever happened. The walls never crumpled, the people he spoke to never got swept up into the wind as he spoke.

It continued as if everything was okay.

But it wasn't okay.

And it took Damian a long time to realize that.

That this...wasn't okay.

It was a Tuesday.

Fourteen days after he'd gotten back.

It took fourteen days for him to make his decision.

Fourteen days longer than he should've taken to make that decision, he kept telling himself. It was too late, he chastised. If he was going to do anything it should've been the moment he woke up two weeks ago. But now wasn't the time to regret decisions. Now was the time to make them.

He woke up early that morning. He'd returned to waking up early, but this morning he woke up especially early, filled with that same excitement and trepidation that he'd been missing for weeks. He got ready quickly, but not too quickly, because there was a time window to these things that he was trying to meet.

Damian dressed in his work clothes. In the end, he hoped he wouldn't have to go into work today, but worst case scenario he still wasn't going to be late.

Call it a quirk.

Today, his mom was in the living room when he emerged from his space. Without many words, he hugged her tightly. She was one of the few things that didn't feel like crumpling paper, but it still wasn't solid enough to keep him grounded. When she questioned his motives, he laughed it off and said he'd see her later. He said it like a promise, like a far off nearly unattainable goal. She didn't seem to notice.

Damian left his house and headed to work. He parked his car in the business's parking lot like usual, but he wasn't going into work today. He started down the block, pace picking up with every step he took.

He wasn't running, but he was the closest thing to a runner anywhere on this city street.

He stopped in front of a coffee shop.