"i have come to be afraid of nights" he confessed to his friend, and in an instant he knew how foolish it sounded.
he saw the bemused flicker in his friends otherwise earnest eyes, and knew he could never explain his terror so that his friend could fathom it; could never describe the gripping anxiety that had became his lover or the faceless, shapeless fear that filled his dreams and made him terrified of falling asleep. he lacked the language to describe these to the man sitting opposite to him, a man so even in his own nature and so certain of what and who he was that nothing could move him. so he knew that in the eyes of his friend the experience he had just tried to bring to words, a one that had started to shape his whole existence and to push him towards and over the limit of something else entirely would remain as just one of his many quirks; and he felt silly for even trying.
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