The reflection is odd. It's certainly him but Graham feels off-centre. It is his face, now scarred, as is his chest and arm and back, but it's all still his despite what that Impostor tried to do.
He should be dead, right?
Joshua opens the bathroom door and Graham's breath hitches, but he doesn't move. His eyes are wider, his fingers tracing the dead lines of pink flesh that shouldn't have recovered. He wonders, often, if that is due to the Watcher. A sort-of death is just enough to push him further away from humanity and more of a human-shaped monster, asking questions that must be answered.
Joshua rubs his shoulder, and Graham breathes again, shakily.
"You're not OK."
"No," Graham admits quietly, staring at the edges of the bathroom sink.
Joshua knows. Joshua's had his own weird shit, had freely told Graham about the strange coffin. And Graham had, in turn, in an attempt to not lie for once, told Joshua about the table, and the thing that was... trapped in it. And it was a trap, not a home, he'd babbled, because otherwise Graham would be dead if it wasn't stuck to it. It's more than he told Oliver.
He'd thought that keeping everything a secret -- all this horrible truth about fear, primordial, in the world, as influential as cold wind -- would help shield Ollie and their friends, but if anything, it's likely made things worse. More than likely the table pushed its influence on Ollie and that's why he had his breakdown at Barclays and Ollie knew that Graham was lying or keeping secrets about something and just could not, would not tell him because-- because he's like his parents and secrecy is supposed to be safe and ignorance is supposed to be bliss but it's not it's just more dangerous and blind and worse like Darkness--
Joshua's arms are warm around him. When did Graham take his shirt off? To look at his scars again? Probably.
The shirt's in the bathtub. Huh.
Maybe tomorrow he can at least try to tell Ollie the truth. It's what he deserves after all; Graham Knows about the nightmares.