17
Waking up and falling asleep was the same thing. There was no differentiating between the two anymore. They are one of the same conscious thoughts.
Pulse woke slowly, feeling the new thrill that flesh provided. Inside their chest was the familiar pulsing of their celestial soul, along with the soft hum of the dwarf star across their chest. He has yet to wake up.
The night before came back to them in trickles; tickling their imagination and nerves with the memory of that precious moment they all shared.
Where they woke up was not the vintage and warm suite, but an apartment, quaint and barren, yet to be decorated.
The walls were gray, mostly empty of everything but two chairs by a tall window and two beds of different sizes.
One was tailored to the seven-foot pulsar, the other was undoubtedly supposed to be Quarks.
Yet, he was sleeping with Pulse, still in the bare, unaware, and soundless in their breathing.
'I should get cleaned up...' Pulse wormed their way out of Quark's stronghold, placing the thick, gray blanket over him to ease the transition. 'If he woke up naked in my arms, I'm sure he'd die of embarrassment.'
Two doors were in the room. One led to an endless hallway with an impossible amount of doors lining down shag carpet and wood-paneled walls. 'Other stars, maybe?' It begs a slew of questions that can wait to be answered. The door opposite was the room of desire.
It had the bare essentials. A shower, a sink, and a deep bathtub. This room notably had a teal hue; the tiles, shower, sink and bath were pure white. Freshly polished. New clothes and clean towels were placed by the sink.
There wasn't any hesitation, Pulse jumped inside the bathtub and only turned the knob for hot water.
They let out a long, easing sigh. “By the light...”
Until now, they hadn't noticed the knots and strains in their flesh, so they relaxed and unfurled, feeling like their body was, too, becoming as loose as the water that gushed from the tap.
Water went up to their shoulders, and Pulse became tempted to submerge their face to suck in the warmth and serenity into every pore they had to offer.
For the first time since entering the dream state, Pulse couldn't feel the passage of time. Their mind wandered into their memories, hitting replay on their favorite climaxes. It was vivid, so Pulse made sure the moment never dared fade from their thoughts in the future.
The effects of those memories made Pulse thankful to be in private. Replaying those scandalous events left them flushing, so perhaps it was best, for now, to let the thoughts rest.
Some time must have passed because Quark knocked on the door. “Pulse? Are you there?”
“I am!” Pulse confirmed. “I'll be out soon!”
They did a courtesy wash with the available soaps before they jumped out of the tub, doing a brief dry before slapping on the new clothes provided for them and Quark. Simple dress—pants and a shirt, as well as a jacket for Pulse and an oversized sweater for Quark.
Quark was dressed in the clothes from the night before, Pulse, now believed them to be ill-fitting on him. 'He should wear something that shows off his body more…'
Quark sat on the bed—his correct bed—crossing his legs and going through a frugal selection of books. Two sets mirror each other; a set for Pulse to read. One Quark picked up to give it a study titled: “Dreams and You—How To Adjust to the Transition Between Realities.”
Pulse took a mental note to read that one at some point.
“Feel better?” Quark smiled at Pulse, setting the book in his lap. “You look better. Well, I mean... You know what I mean.”
“I know, I know,” Pulse sat in the chair by the window, doing an inner cheer when there was a pack of cigarettes left there for them. “How do you feel? When did you wake up?”
“I've been awake for a bit, not too long though.” He was petting the spine of their book absentmindedly. “I was exhausted. I still feel groggy after last night.”
“Leo sure knows how to make us work, huh?”
“Yeah, she is pretty amazing.”
Outside was the field—the sky washed out from specks and blues into a cloudy yellow dawn, and the field had been bleached; it was green, but Pulse needed to focus for a minute to see it. Opening the window let in a warm breeze that smelled faintly of wheat.
“How do you... How do you feel, after last night?” They tapped on the carton, mostly to busy their hands.
“I feel, I feel really good.”
“Me too. Yeah, me too.”
“It was... It was a new experience, huh?”
“Yeah, it was.”
“So... where should we go from there?”
'Okay, this is the moment. It's time to confess. I didn't rehearse a damn thing yet.'
“Maybe we can play it by ear?” Pulse suggested, drumming their fingers on the carton. “I...”
'I'm being an idiot, why can't I just be outright with this?'
“Yeah, we can do that.” Quark was twiddling his thumbs. “I, um... I should wash up too, huh?”
“There are some new clothes in there for you.”
“Oh, thank you!”
“You're welcome, I...” 'I didn't put them there. Damn it, don't say that.' “Ah, you're welcome.”
The hair couldn't hide Quark's smile. What that smile meant sent Pulse in a flurry of thoughts. What could it mean? Was he catching on? Reminding themselves not to get their hopes up too high until he talks to Quark.
And so, Quark, with his book in tow, went to the bathroom and shut the door.
Pulse lit their cigarette. 'Why am I being so stupid about this?'
Quark ran the water to the hottest setting, letting it rise halfway while he examined the clothes left for him. The sweater would be fine, but the pants didn't seem comfortable. They were clean, but they had been pressed and pleated, making them look stiff.
He turned off the water, and with his book carefully held above the water, relaxed back, and sprang it open to the first pages.
The words here are clear and plain. It was precise with its paragraphs—maybe too precise.
Quark had an itch in the back of his mind.
It made sense: The transition from stars dreaming to waking can be confusing.
Thinking about it now, he realizes that this new body was more familiar than his 'real' body.
Absurd as it was, once he got through the awkwardness of using legs and arms, the weighted movement felt natural.
To feel solid and fleshy was normal. Feeling grass and water, the difference between warm and cold, the fatigue after a long day was normal. Almost that was what it should be.
The book made no mention of that. The book mentions many peculiarities with dreams and talks about how to keep grounded when in this state so they wouldn't confuse it with their waking selves, but it felt wrong.
It felt like a lie. To Quark, the lie was a weight in their stomach, and he would never have had that sensation as a star.
This weight turned in their insides uncomfortably, and the paranoia that came as he reached the middle of the book was itchy inside their skull.
Once he dried and dressed, he slumped back into the main room, where Pulse was blowing smoke out the window, not realizing Quark had come back.
They were saying something—not to Quark, but to themselves—but Quark's furrow was loud, and his feet were in focus as they sat heavy on the bed. The book was clasped and closed.
As Pulse looked at Quark, with first a smile, a different intention with a different conversation in mind, switched to a concerned frown, slumping their shoulders, changing their posture because whatever good mood they were in, vanished.