"From you coming here.  For a month.  Maybe longer, maybe a year would be good, I don't know, but—we've both been extremely disruptive to each other's lives, and, it's been—a lot, and.  I don't think it's healthy."

"To whom?"

"Either of us."

"Why? You've been alone for thirty years and you think hanging out with me is unhealthy?"

"I think you can come back in a month and we'll have regrouped and both be saner for it."

And the yard starts getting darker.

"...what are you doing?"

"Enforcing this.  Leave.  I'll see you later."

And then there's nothing, not light, not the sound of wind or the geese or distant roads, not the feel of dead grass under his sneakers and not the smell of fallen, rotting leaves.

And then there's something, a vertical shaft where he can see, maybe thirty degrees wide, maybe less - there's void under his feet—he can't see his feet, can't feel them beyond proprioception, but he can see that the sidewalk's there, right in front of him, and past it a window into the world outside this yard.

"—Jeremy cut this fucking shit out you're my pet ghost and I'm ordering you to!!!!"

Nothing he can perceive happens in response to this.

Well then he is going to start walking away from the sidewalk, in the rough direction of the house. —no, actually, scratch that, their souls are connected, he could feel Jeremy the other day when he was looking for him, so he'll do that again, follow his metaphorical nose to find that feeling again. "Jeremy!"

That feeling is also cut off.  And when he turns a little away from the sidewalk everything goes back to black even though the window should absolutely be within his vision.

Well he will keep looking for that feeling because it makes no sense for Jeremy to be able to cut that off and this is magic and so his feelings should matter more than logic. That's what magic is.

And he will. Keep. Walking. "Gee, Jeremy, it sure would be a shame if I accidentally tripped and broke my neck because I can't fucking see where I'm going. I'm sure not gonna stop walking, though. Lol."

After several minutes, he ends up directly in front of a different bit of sidewalk.

Then he will turn back around and keep walking. "Using your magic on me? I'm more stubborn than you, you know. You didn't last that long carrying me the other day when we went flying and I'm an athlete, I can do this for hours."

This gets him a twinge that Jeremy is maybe that way (down), at the cost of his entire proprioception.

OH THAT'S FUCKED UP.

You know who's also fucked up, though? Jake. Does he need proprioception to keep trying to walk? Let's find out!

(Underground. Again. Is he. Motherfucker. Jake might need to dig.)

It's really hard, under these conditions, to tell whether or not he's succeeding at this.

That's okay, Jeremy's gonna tire before he does.

Occasionally he seems to squirm himself into facing a narrow definition of the direction of the sidewalk, and then he can see that same window out into the world.

That plus the feeling of the direction of Jeremy is enough for him to know where "down" is, and there's probably dirt there (he bets it's near the tree house), so either he's digging or he's bloodying his fingers on solid stuff and if it's the latter Jeremy is gonna feel so guilty and right now Jake thinks he deserves it.

Asshole.

Eventually he gets zoomed towards a window and—out—and everything comes back at once.

"Ow, you motherfucker!" ...how are his fingers doing.

He can't find any skin or nail breakage but they're kind of red and hurt a fair bit anyway.  If anything, it's more annoying than comforting that there's not visible damage to mark the pain.