May rose to his feet, and immediately fell back down. His legs felt weak, along with the rest of him. But that wasn't all. His head felt like it was squeezed into a blender, being thrown around at frightening speeds. It was a dizzying spell cast upon a dizzying spell cast upon a dizzying spell. Should be no surprise that he collapsed. And all of it, because of his eyes. As he held them open, he was seeing the night and his room, along with so much more that was alien and indecipherable. And with every second he had them open, the throbbing of his head multiplied. At least when he had them shut, he was only seeing the alien images, which dissolved into darkness if he concentrated enough.
He dug out professor Laferty's first lessons from memory.
'Breathe with intent. Hang on to every tiny aspect of every breath. Observe closely. Understand deeply. At the bottom, amid the stillness, is where you want to be.'
He regulated his breathing and concentrated. But that was all. He wasn't seeking the bottom. He was seeking some quiet. And when he got enough, he looked outward, with his eyes still closed. He wasn't sure where the idea birthed from, and he didn't question it. He only acted on it and showed no surprise when he succeeded. Underneath his closed eyes, the image of the night and his room was starting to form. Although entirely in black, he was able to see. And that was a start.
He remained seated, while concentrating, until he could see enough of the outside and the throbbing was bearable. Then, he slowly rose back up to his feet, holding on to the chair. His feet almost gave out again, but he held on, leaning onto the back of the chair. It seemed to take forever to be straight on his feet. And then, for another couple of forevers, he remained standing unmoving, allowing himself to remember the feeling of standing on his feet. Something so very familiar felt so very new, as if he had been born anew. The first step he took was hesitant, faltering. He headed to the wall in two rapid and faulty steps, and then with the wall as a crutch, he re-learned to walk. He was sweating and cold but determined as he finally stepped out of his room.
He checked his memory, found that it wasn't damaged. He could find the way to professor String's cottage. He walked down to the end of the wide hallway, and paused as a chill fell upon him looking down the stairs. Desperately holding onto the railing, he walked down slowly. One step at a time. Long was the night, and endless was the pain. He sighed in relief as he reached the flat ground, and rushed onward, without even realising the increasing speed of his feet. It was past midnight when he finally arrived by the lakeside. The cottages were all the same, short brick buildings that could be called a cozy little home even outside of the academy, and with the view of the lake, they were even luxurious. Upon every door was a wooden block with the name of the professor, whose home it was, engraved. Made it easy to find professor String's cottage. He prayed the professor was awake, when he knocked at the door.
**
When the night began, String was clear on the itinerary. There were no papers to mark, primarily because the professor felt compelled to indulge in his laziness and so decided to give his class a month of no tests. But he did have to prepare his lessons, because he hated walking into the class unprepared. And also, he had his paper to write, on the 'Synchronous effects of awakening', something that had been recorded but not identified as a phenomenon worthy of study until recently. String was among the several who were researching the phenomenon. He was intent upon making a splash, if only to strike back at his friends who had been teasing about him having gone 'soft' at the academy, which was a nicer way of calling him lazy. The looks on their faces when his paper was published was sure to amuse him endlessly, and that was motivation enough. He felt he was halfway through the paper, in only a month, which was unquestionably amazing.
He was smiling while the night was young. And he was truly engrossed in the research, which was probably why he didn't notice the creeping restlessness until it had filled him. And all he could do was succumb to it. He carefully closed the notebooks, returned them to their right places in the drawers. Stretched his body awake. And then, let the restlessness drown him.
He had waited long enough when, finally, there was knocking. He calmed himself down before walking over and pulling the door open. What greeted him, who greeted him, was quite the sight.
'Mr May. Quite the unexpected guest, I must say. And quite the sight too. Pray tell what happened, because it sure seems interesting.'
String spoke in a voice that was equal measures of amused and frustrated, and truly curious. And why wouldn't it be? May was an average boy from his class, average in every way. Was in the middle of the class by height, by looks, by charm, and by his marks. Actually, it was quite something, String felt only now, for someone being average in every aspect was much rarer than someone being at the top of the class in every aspect. He felt it might have been his fault for not seeing it already.
Didn't matter. He would correct his mistake now. Especially since May made such an unmissable impression now.
May was in plain white pyjamas. His pants were scuffed at the bottom and around the knees, marks of dirt were all over the pants and the shirt. His shirt was drenched. His face wore an expression of pain. And his eyes were tightly shut, and seemed like they had been shut for a while now.
Just what is going on, String wondered. His curiosity only grew, as he felt a faint trepidation worming inside of him. He invited May in, had the boy sit down in the study while he got him a glass of water, and let the boy calm down. While he waited patiently, for May to begin.