Adrian woke choking on static.
His eyes snapped open, and for a moment the world was clear. His hands were his own. His breathing was ragged but real. Relief rushed through him—until the second voice spoke.
"Good morning."
It came from his own throat. From his own lips.
But it wasn't him.
Adrian froze. His mouth curved into a smile he hadn't chosen. His lungs filled with a laugh that didn't belong to him.
"No," Adrian whispered inside his head. "You're not me. You can't—"
Can't? the other Adrian purred. I already am.
---
The battle began immediately.
When Adrian tried to move his right hand, it obeyed—for a second. Then it stilled, fingers twitching, and clenched into a fist that wasn't his. His legs stumbled one step forward, then backward, as though two different people were steering the same machine.
It felt like being puppeted and resisting at once. Every muscle tugged in opposite directions, pain splitting him down the center.
"Get out of me!" Adrian screamed.
His own mouth laughed in reply.
But this is home. You're just a guest now.
---
Visions split across his sight. On the left, he saw the Dimensional's endless spirals, corridors folding into corridors. On the right, fragments of his old apartment, his mother's voice, the streets of his childhood. Both overlapped, bleeding into one another until he didn't know which world was true.
The double whispered:
I can walk your streets. I can wear your face. I can smile at your mother. And she will never know the difference.
"No," Adrian snarled inside. "I won't let you."
You don't have a choice, it answered. The Dimensional chose me. You're just the husk.
---
He fought harder, screaming until his throat tore raw. He forced one arm to his side, fingers digging into the wall for leverage. But the other hand rose against his will, curling around his throat, squeezing.
Adrian choked.
"Stop—please—"
The other Adrian spoke through his lips, calm and smooth:
This is balance. Only one of us gets to stay.
His vision blackened at the edges. His body convulsed. He dug his nails into the wall hard enough to tear them off, blood spiraling down the surface. For one flicker of a second, he wrested control back.
He gasped, collapsing forward.
But then his own voice whispered into his ear, though no one stood beside him:
You're fading, Adrian. Soon, you'll just be a memory I wear like skin.
---