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[abrightboy]

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[abrightboy]

“It’s inside your head,” Malcolm points out. “It’s going to know.”

[conning]

He gets a little skin-crawling tingle of revulsion at the thought. "Not a fan of having anything in my head that wasn't invited. Particularly not something..."

Entity-ish. He rubs his face with one hand. "I thought... you had to want it. To ask for it. It's not supposed to just happen, right?"

[abrightboy]

“How do you think they get people to want it? Start with a few friendly whispers and go from there,” Malcolm points out.

[conning]

“I’ve never been the best at resisting temptation.” It’s not a joke. It’s not making light. It’s genuine anxiety.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm takes a breath.

“…For a second, I thought you weren’t going to choose me,” he admits quietly.

[conning]

Neal stares at him a moment, stomach sinking so fast it makes his gut tingle. “With… In the nightmare?”

[abrightboy]

“Yeah. She was the one, right? The relationship that ended badly, that you didn’t want… this. At first.” She had to be. “So I wasn’t sure you’d come with me.”

[conning]

Neal nods without looking at Malcolm. “I guess I’ve got some explaining to do there, huh.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm shakes his head. “Not if you don’t want to. Just. You already chose this over a temptation. You know… you know if you become an Avatar, we can’t… do this anymore, right?”

[conning]

Neal pulls back a little, his focus jerking to the other man. Of all the things he could have said, Neal didn't expect that one. It hurts, but he can't put a finger on why. "I don't... want to be an Avatar, Malcolm."

[abrightboy]

“I don’t think anyone wakes up in the morning and thinks ‘you know, I’d like to be an Avatar’. I’m talking about the stakes here. If you give in and become one of them, you’ll probably kill me.”

[conning]

"I won't." He's not sure which part he's refuting. Neal shifts so he can put a hand on Malcolm's waist, resting his forehead against the other man's.

"I don't want to lose you. I don't want to lose me."

[abrightboy]

“I won’t leave you, but if… the worst happens… things won’t be like this. They’ll be bad. You might leave. Like Jeff did. Or worse.” Malcolm hesitates a moment. “You won’t always know when it’s not you. You have to be careful.”

[conning]

Goosebumps prickle over his scalp, and it's like that wave of sensation is a trigger. Malcolm's emotions stir up around him again, a filmy awareness that caresses his mind. He tenses.

"I feel it again."

[abrightboy]

"Notice it, recognize it... just don't listen to it," Malcolm tells him. He pauses. "Was it pushing you when you were in my dream?"

[conning]

"It's not anything talking to me," he says, trying to clarify. "I can feel what people are feeling. What you're feeling."

He shivers. "I didn't do anything to make it happen. It was different in the dream."

[abrightboy]

“What do you want to do about those feelings?” Malcolm asks.

[conning]

“Nothing.” Not totally true. The sickly pressure of emotions makes Neal’s scalp prickle, but it’s not totally unpleasant. It’s like eating too much candy, almost—he’s unsatisfied but craving the flavor even with the nausea underneath.

Neal reaches for Malcolm’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “I want to make people feel more. But none of the emotions are good ones.”

[abrightboy]

“That impulse is the voice,” Malcolm tells him.

[conning]

“It would be nice if it was an actual voice.”

He’d be able to ignore it so much more comfortably.

[abrightboy]

“Sometimes it might be. I can even see him sometimes. But sometimes I just feel the… the pull,” Malcolm explains.

[conning]

“Okay I kind of hope it’s not an actual voice ever.” The thought makes his skin crawl on slightly closer examination. “And I… hate being able to feel that you’re upset like this. I hate that it doesn’t feel completely awful.”

[abrightboy]

“I’m upset by a lot of things. Is…” He doesn’t even want to ask the question; it makes his stomach knot up. “Is being around me going to be too difficult?”

[conning]

“What? No. Of course not.” He presses his hands to Malcolm’s face. “Of course not.”

He feels it acutely, the wash of fear that precedes the question. It’s a particular flavor, particular type. It’s exactly what he needs.

No, it’s exactly what that thing wants. Neal squeezes his eyes shut, breathing deeply. “I am not leaving you. Not now. Not ever.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm watches him carefully.

“I can help you,” he promises, that fear subsiding, and it sounds like a vow.