[There are several strange things about this morning.
The first: that Polnraeff sees it at all. He doesn't usually wake up until noon, and that especially goes for when he's sleeping in Bruno's bed. He's comfortable there, and it's not like he has a job to get to, so why bother rising?
But no, this morning, Polnareff wakes up when Bruno leaves the bed for the shower, and he doesn't fall back asleep. Because the second strange thing is that he feels . . . empty. Not sick, he determines after a long few moments. Not sick, and not tired. Maybe muzzy? Only it's been a fair few minutes since Bruno left for the shower, he's long since woken up. Polnareff taps his chest idly, because that's where the empty feeling originates: right in the center of his chest.
But it's not so bad. Actually, beyond the confusion, he feels fairly . . . content? Warm, oddly enough, even though he's shimmied out from under the covers. Warm and relaxed, his muscles all melted, and Polnareff sighs as he lies back down and stretches out. He still feels strange mentally, but at least physically he's doing all right.]
[Something certainly feels off to Bruno this morning, and it's not because Polnareff is still awake by the time he's done with his shower. (Though that's not say he's not surprised all the same.) In fact, Bruno can't quite put his finger on what exactly is off, but he can't quite shake the nagging feeling that something is missing.]
[Bruno pauses a moment in the doorway on the way back to his room when he spots Polnareff with his eyes still open, and not in a groggy, fighting the inevitable sort of way that he's used to. Rather than simply leaning over long enough to give him a kiss before heading downstairs to get breakfast started, Bruno steps around to Polnareff's side of the bed, sitting on the edge.]
[Bruno doesn't mind the arm around his hips, taking the opportunity to move in a little closer when he's tugged and running his fingers through Polnareff's hair. As always, it's warmer in Polnareff's arms than anywhere else, so of course he moves to be closer.]
Mm, I think so. [He certainly doesn't feel unwell even if things feel off. Bruno leans down, pressing a kiss to Polnareff's forehead.] What about you? You seem distracted.
[He doesn't know, exactly, but that kiss feels nice. Polnareff twists, tucking his face into the crook of Bruno's neck. His skin is still damp from the shower, and Polnareff sighs as he closes his eyes.
The thoughts are still chaotic, snatches of words and garbled sentences. But they're starting to sharpen, and Polnareff's eyes close as he tries to focus.]
[Hm, that would seem like a liable possibility if his temperature felt off, but the contact now and from kissing his forehead, Polnareff didn't feel like he was warmer or cooler than normal. But it's really as good as guess as any as to what's going on.]
[He makes a little mnn noise, vaguely disagreeing. Almost certainly he ought to sleep more, but this isn't that. He's stayed up longer, he knows the signs of sleep deprivation. No, this is more of a headache, it's-- it's like his thoughts are crowded, it's like his head is filling and--
It happens so swiftly he's left dizzy in its wake. One moment, he hears echoes of words; the next, six voices burst into his skull, chattering on and on, voices overlapping-- he can catch words, phrases, the voices varied, and he knows those voices, he does, but right now there's so many going on and on and on in his head--
It's too much. It's too much, and Polnareff jerks away from Bruno, his hands going over his ears in a futile gesture.]
[It seems equal parts abrupt and gradual. On the one hand, there's one moment where Polnareff's arms are around Bruno, and then the next he's covering his ears. But at the same time, even when he's awake early, Polnareff never falls this quiet. He's rarely ever this quiet. Still, Bruno's initial reaction is more automatic than anything else. Immediate concern and worry causes him to reach out to reestablish the physical connection, his hand coming to Polnareff's arm without trying to pry his hands away.]
Jean, what's wrong?
[He's not panicked and refuses to be because that never helps, but he's careful to keep his voice even all the same.]
[The voices don't stop. Polnareff's hands come away from his ears, because they've done nothing to muffle the sounds. And that doesn't make sense, how the hell can that not work, Bruno's voice had been muffled but--]
[Bruno shakes his head a little, brow furrowing in further concern. The fragments are still too small right now to get a sense of the bigger picture of what's happening, but that doesn't mean Bruno isn't still trying to piece it together.]
[Had either one of them led even remotely normal lives with nothing supernatural ever once crossing their paths, Polnareff would sound like he was losing his mind to a psychotic break. But Bruno knows better, and knows that Polanreff is not going off the deep end or exaggerating. And that's unfortunate in some ways. At least either of those two things would have more obvious solutions compared to the reality of the situation, which is plainly out of both his and Polnareff's depths.]
[It's a useless gesture because Bruno knows it doesn't reasonable do anything to lower the volume in Polnareff's head, but he runs his fingers through Polnareff's hair, fingernails grazing along his scalp occasionally.]
You need to calm down, Jean. [Bruno might not know what exactly to do to fix this -- or at least alleviate a part of it -- but Polnareff eking into a panic can only spell trouble. Calming down though is something much easier said than done most likely, especially if that's all he's given for direction. Bruno thinks the most obvious solution is something outside of himself, out of his own head even if it's just for a few seconds. Bruno remains as steady as he can, his hand shifting from Polnareff's hair to hold his cheek.] I know it's hard and it's not going to probably stop what's happening, but pick something -- me, a spot on the ceiling, the blankets, just pick something, and focus on it. Don't try to think, just focus on something else. You can do that for me, right?
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4/?? beginning of power swap, i'm always on time
The first: that Polnraeff sees it at all. He doesn't usually wake up until noon, and that especially goes for when he's sleeping in Bruno's bed. He's comfortable there, and it's not like he has a job to get to, so why bother rising?
But no, this morning, Polnareff wakes up when Bruno leaves the bed for the shower, and he doesn't fall back asleep. Because the second strange thing is that he feels . . . empty. Not sick, he determines after a long few moments. Not sick, and not tired. Maybe muzzy? Only it's been a fair few minutes since Bruno left for the shower, he's long since woken up. Polnareff taps his chest idly, because that's where the empty feeling originates: right in the center of his chest.
But it's not so bad. Actually, beyond the confusion, he feels fairly . . . content? Warm, oddly enough, even though he's shimmied out from under the covers. Warm and relaxed, his muscles all melted, and Polnareff sighs as he lies back down and stretches out. He still feels strange mentally, but at least physically he's doing all right.]
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[Bruno pauses a moment in the doorway on the way back to his room when he spots Polnareff with his eyes still open, and not in a groggy, fighting the inevitable sort of way that he's used to. Rather than simply leaning over long enough to give him a kiss before heading downstairs to get breakfast started, Bruno steps around to Polnareff's side of the bed, sitting on the edge.]
You seem awfully awake.
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[He scoots forward, slinging an arm around Bruno's hips and tugging him in close. It's a needy move, but he's feeling strange.]
You okay this morning?
[Is he? His thoughts don't seem his own; he keeps getting flashes of words and phrases that don't sound like him.]
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Mm, I think so. [He certainly doesn't feel unwell even if things feel off. Bruno leans down, pressing a kiss to Polnareff's forehead.] What about you? You seem distracted.
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[He doesn't know, exactly, but that kiss feels nice. Polnareff twists, tucking his face into the crook of Bruno's neck. His skin is still damp from the shower, and Polnareff sighs as he closes his eyes.
The thoughts are still chaotic, snatches of words and garbled sentences. But they're starting to sharpen, and Polnareff's eyes close as he tries to focus.]
Maybe I'm getting sick or something . . .
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Maybe you should try getting some more sleep?
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It happens so swiftly he's left dizzy in its wake. One moment, he hears echoes of words; the next, six voices burst into his skull, chattering on and on, voices overlapping-- he can catch words, phrases, the voices varied, and he knows those voices, he does, but right now there's so many going on and on and on in his head--
It's too much. It's too much, and Polnareff jerks away from Bruno, his hands going over his ears in a futile gesture.]
Fuck!
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Jean, what's wrong?
[He's not panicked and refuses to be because that never helps, but he's careful to keep his voice even all the same.]
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[The voices don't stop. Polnareff's hands come away from his ears, because they've done nothing to muffle the sounds. And that doesn't make sense, how the hell can that not work, Bruno's voice had been muffled but--]
Can't you hear that?
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Hear what?
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[He's sounding like a madman, he realizes, but he can barely hear himself think, much less try and reword anything he's saying.]
I can't fucking think, it's-- I don't know what's happening--
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[It's a useless gesture because Bruno knows it doesn't reasonable do anything to lower the volume in Polnareff's head, but he runs his fingers through Polnareff's hair, fingernails grazing along his scalp occasionally.]
You need to calm down, Jean. [Bruno might not know what exactly to do to fix this -- or at least alleviate a part of it -- but Polnareff eking into a panic can only spell trouble. Calming down though is something much easier said than done most likely, especially if that's all he's given for direction. Bruno thinks the most obvious solution is something outside of himself, out of his own head even if it's just for a few seconds. Bruno remains as steady as he can, his hand shifting from Polnareff's hair to hold his cheek.] I know it's hard and it's not going to probably stop what's happening, but pick something -- me, a spot on the ceiling, the blankets, just pick something, and focus on it. Don't try to think, just focus on something else. You can do that for me, right?