Kel knows he’s dreaming, because of two things.
One is, most noticeably, that feeling of otherness, of belonging-but-not-quite, like the weight of his body is unknown but still functions as it always has, and always will.
The second is James.
“Hello, Kel,” James says, mouth soft and round and pleasant with the curve of his smile. His eyes are so, so dark, here in this twilight-daytime-shadowed landscape. Fathomless and deep and knowing.
Kel thinks he’s smiling; can’t really feel the muscles of his face contract and relax in the way he knows it does, when he smiles, but it’s like the ghost of one molds itself to his lips. When he speaks, it sounds like he’s smiling, so - he must be. He must be.
“Hello again,” Kel says, because it’s polite, and also rote, habit drilled into him through timeless familiarity, because James is always here. Always. That’s how he knows he’s Somewhere Else. But also: “I missed you.”
“Silly man,” James says, fondly mocking. “Of course you did.” His voice is rich and sweet, curling around Kel in ribboned whispers. James has always seemed smaller than he ought to be, Kel thinks; there’s an impression of a secondary figure, huge and hulking and beastly, superimposed over James’ form whenever Kel catches him in his periphery. Huge, monstrous teeth in a gaping maw, drooling with the urge to hunt down prey.
But.
This is a dream, and James is lovely. The loveliest thing Kel could have conjured up, actually, in his tired mind. Something ethereal and fun and ever-so-slightly mean. He thinks he’s in love.
“You’re not in love.” Kel hadn’t said the words aloud (did he?), but James acts like he did. He taps a finger against his chin, an impish look of mischief pinching his eyes into crescents, bares his straight, perfect teeth. “At least, not yet.”
“Okay,” says Kel, because he doesn't have to think here, in a dream. Doesn’t have to go beyond placidly agreeing with whatever James says, because James is lovely, and he loves James.
“This is only a dream, after all,” James sighs. “You can’t know all of somebody from a dream, can you?” James shakes his head no, so Kel does the same. He thinks he does the same. Movement here doesn’t follow the rules of the real world, out there where his body is hindered by gravity and motion and taxes.
“I’m watered-down here, you know. This isn’t even the real me, just a sad, pale imitation.” James pouts, and Kel feels something surge in his chest, the rapid thump of his heart banging painfully against his ribs. Is that happening in his body right now, out there? There’s a phantom slide of fabric against his arm, his body turning over in bed.
James cocks his head, as if he can hear the rabbiting of his heart as well, gaze shifting into something hungry. “That’s okay, though,” he says, serene once again. “You don’t have to know me just yet.”
His hand reaches up to cup Kel’s cheek, and Kel feels it, he feels it.
“Because I know you.”
Kel jolts awake.
Kel’s nodding off at his desk when there’s a knock on his office door. There’s a mad dash to straighten himself out, rising to bow when his manager walks in.
“Ah, Kel! Sorry for the intrusion, but I thought you’d like to meet our newest team member.”
James peers up at him from his open doorway, solid and real and completely ordinary. Kel’s shock lasts about as long as it takes for him to reason his way around it - maybe his brain is backfilling all of his dreams with the image of James in front of him, maybe he’d walked past James before on the street and his mind snagged on that randomly, maybe maybe maybe.
Kel thinks all of that, but when he locks eyes with James - the person that can’t possibly be James - he knows. He knows.
“Hello! I’m excited to get to know you,” James says, mouth soft and round and pleasant with the curve of his smile. His eyes are so, so dark, here in Kel’s air-conditioned office. Fathomless and deep and knowing.
And because it’s rote, and familiar, and he doesn’t know what else to do, Kel replies. “Hello again.”
He thinks he’s smiling.