So easily said, but how could he? They were a part of who he was. And they were so real. They were happening. Wolfram's breathing had become strange, strangled, and his heart was pounding too quickly. The room was suddenly not bright enough for him, but it wasn't light that he needed, because it wasn't darkness that threatened to suck him up and break him down into nothing.
He needed to escape. Escape meant wings. He still had wings. He had to still have wings. His power expanded again, tried to spill over the both of them, but Wolfram held tight to it.
He grabbed at the sensation of the fingers at the back of his neck as proof that he was really there. That he was still real, still existed. It didn't matter if the skin was cool compared to the feverish heat of his. His hands skittered desperately over the vampire's broad shoulders, then moved up until they were tangled in his hair. He was really there. With the vampire. With Tao. The overwhelming power of the memory still loomed over him, but he closed his eyes then, focused on the way his quick, hot breath curled between them, the solid security of the body under his hands. Strong back, the blades of his shoulders. He was there, in the room. With Tao. He was somewhere, with someone, and he was someone. His body was still his own.
That lessened the enormity of his memory. He divorced himself from that time and carefully placed the memory behind shields again. His breathing gradually slowed and evened out. "I'm here. I'm really here."