Work Text:
remus stared into the mirror.
remus knew he was looking at himself.
he had the memories and instincts and feelings that it normally did, that let it know that he was indeed remus.
except...
except looking in the mirror, it was like that last switch of recognition and familiarity and association hadnt been flipped in his brain.
like when you look at a word for too long and it starts to become alien and unknown and you wonder how you could have ever seen it as a word before.
except, he was feeling that with itself, and his entire life.
he might go as far to say he felt like a completely different person, but that felt wrong.
he still felt exactly the same, he just couldnt attach its mind to its body.
he breathes out heavily, rocking back and forth, watching the mirror capture the movement of the body.
rocking back and forth, a common stim for remus. one that comes easily, and without thought, even now, when he doesnt feel like remus.
he almost feels like he never was remus, except, going back to what he mentioned before, all of its memories contradict that.
he just feels like he’s inhabiting the body, that its not actually his.
oooh! what if, what if he was actually an alien who was surgically implanted into this body’s brain!? so it has only existed for a few days but has all the memories of this human so he can blend in better-
remus cuts off that train of thought with a shake of the head.
it’d probably be better if he doesnt convince itself he’s an alien.
he steps closer to the mirror, observing the face that feels like not-its and like his at the same time.
it sticks the tongue out, and then crosses the eyes.
the light brown, almost red, eyes seem so familiar but so new.
he leans closer.
the eyes are so pretty!
how has he never realized how pretty these eyes were?
the light caught them just right as he turned his head, and he smiled, shaking his hands in excitement. they looked like shiny glass over rich, nutrient filled soil, and combined with the unnaturally dilated pupils, they had to be the most beautiful eyes it’s ever seen.
then he looks down to the smile on the face, and its excitement dims when it doesnt register the smile quite as his own.
it walks out of the bathroom, and sits on not-quite-his bed.
he looks at the ceiling.
why does its brain have to be so cruel as to limit his experiences by making it feel like they arent his own?
he had felt the dissociation coming. it had flickered for a few days before settling in fully around yesterday morning.
this was the second time it had happened, so while it wasnt a new experience, it wasnt a welcome one either.
during it he had stopped caring about its appearance, wearing clothes it wouldnt normally wear, stuffing all of his hair into a drab beanie, not wearing any of its usually favourite neon clothing or jewelry.
the disassociation also couldnt be stopped, no matter what grounding techniques remus tried.
It had taken weeks and weeks for that last episode to fade, and even then he had had to cut its hair to kickstart the beginning of the end. he doesnt know why, or if, cutting his hair was the thing that had made it stop.
maybe this time he’ll have to dye it.
bright blue would be cool.
or maybe platinum blond? the other day virgil had said remus seemed like a blond.
remus sat up suddenly, beaming.
virgil! his queer platonic partner!
remus let out a pleasantly disbelieving breath.
it was in a qpr? with virgil?? the absolutely funny, sarcastic, joking, emo, heart of gold, who was amazing?? how had remus done something like that?
remus stimmed so much it almost fell off the bed, shaking with pure happiness.
oh yeah, that was another thing, everything was as if he was experiencing it for the first time, which was actually kind of awesome most of the time.
so it was currently re-experiencing the excitement it had first felt all those months and months ago when he had asked virgil if he would be willing to be remus’s qpp. well, this part definitely wasnt unwelcome, virgil deserved all the excitement in the world!
remus giggled, but then stopped dead in its tracks.
was that its voice? was that supposed to be his voice??
it sounded so foreign, had it even come out of his mouth? testing something, remus hummed the chorus of a song it cant remember the name of, and yup, that voice didnt sound like it should belong to remus.
remus shuddered. he didnt think he really wanted to talk out loud anymore.
why did his brain do this? what even was this!? it didnt fit in with the textbook definition of dissasociation, it didnt fit in with imposter syndrome, it didnt fit in with fucking anything!
so it was just stuck, in a body that it didnt recognize, in a room that didnt feel like its own, in a whole life that didnt feel like its own.
it layed back on the bed, carding the hand through the hair, feeling the odd feeling of hair for the first time again.
it curled up under the plaid green fleece blankets.
after a few minutes of laying there, it drifted off, tears sliding down the face.
at least in dreams, everything always made sense, even when nothing made sense at all.