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When Steve came into the room, Eddie had already started narrating. He was rhapsodizing songs of adventure, resilience, friendship against all odds, radical self-acceptance, and the courage of being oneself against a world that wanted you to just be normal. He was doing it for himself, mostly, and for the little lost sheep he found.
What he didn't know was that he was also singing to fallen royalty.
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He came to like an insect crawling out of its chrysalis. Slowly, and painfully, clawing his way towards consciousness like a creature drowning. The first breath was like fire scorching at his throat. Hot metal in his nostrils. Hot metal in his mouth, way down to his insides, smoldering, consuming. Lead inside his veins instead of blood, making the atmosphere bear down on him cold and heavy and oppressing like grave dirt. He couldn’t open his eyes. He couldn’t unstick his tongue from his palate. He couldn’t feel his own heartbeat.