[ It's not like he hasn't thought about what happened in that room, like a video on repeat. Gouged at it to figure out everything that led him to do what he did that day.
He's a little surprised at how disconnected that memory feels. What it focuses on. Didn't he remember more of the words screamed in that room as more and more became Vectors? It wasn't all researchers who came in after that man, right? But it's not like the memory is incorrect. The facts are all there.
In a way, it feels like he glossed over what happened, painting it over and over with what he thinks he felt in those moments. That doesn't make that memory any less real, but the emotional discrepancy gives him pause. Even with what he has and knows now, part of him wants to gouge at it again by habit.
But when a hand touches his chest, he looks up, shocked out of his reverie. He didn't realize he was looking down, staring at his own hands. Just his hands, the melon having being set down somewhere nearby. When did he put it down? Who knows?
Slowly, he places his own hand over Shigaraki's. Something about the motion anchors him back down. Gives him something else to focus on, calms him down. Shigaraki's presence always seems to do that for him nowadays.
The urge to pick it all apart remains, but it slowly recedes to the background as his mind finally settles back into the moment.
He's no longer that runaway child. ]
The answer you gave me made it so much easier to breathe. I don't think I realized just how much it weighed me down.
[ And how much his doubt was affecting him and the ones he cares about. The thought makes his fingers curl a bit. ]
Sometimes I still feel like there's something there, but it doesn't feel like it's burying me.
[ Like a sort of phantom pain. For all of his joy at finally feeling at peace with himself, the time he has spent puzzling over this riddle existed. But now he thinks he can embrace that pain. Acknowledge how important the journey was to him. Move on.
He doesn't have the words for how grateful he feels that someone like him could reach this point. ]
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He's a little surprised at how disconnected that memory feels. What it focuses on. Didn't he remember more of the words screamed in that room as more and more became Vectors? It wasn't all researchers who came in after that man, right? But it's not like the memory is incorrect. The facts are all there.
In a way, it feels like he glossed over what happened, painting it over and over with what he thinks he felt in those moments. That doesn't make that memory any less real, but the emotional discrepancy gives him pause. Even with what he has and knows now, part of him wants to gouge at it again by habit.
But when a hand touches his chest, he looks up, shocked out of his reverie. He didn't realize he was looking down, staring at his own hands. Just his hands, the melon having being set down somewhere nearby. When did he put it down? Who knows?
Slowly, he places his own hand over Shigaraki's. Something about the motion anchors him back down. Gives him something else to focus on, calms him down. Shigaraki's presence always seems to do that for him nowadays.
The urge to pick it all apart remains, but it slowly recedes to the background as his mind finally settles back into the moment.
He's no longer that runaway child. ]
The answer you gave me made it so much easier to breathe. I don't think I realized just how much it weighed me down.
[ And how much his doubt was affecting him and the ones he cares about. The thought makes his fingers curl a bit. ]
Sometimes I still feel like there's something there, but it doesn't feel like it's burying me.
[ Like a sort of phantom pain. For all of his joy at finally feeling at peace with himself, the time he has spent puzzling over this riddle existed. But now he thinks he can embrace that pain. Acknowledge how important the journey was to him. Move on.
He doesn't have the words for how grateful he feels that someone like him could reach this point. ]