[ Usually, the smell of you and the precise way that your presence fills the air whenever you're in the room never failed to anchor him. He's almost constantly victimized by the sharpness of his own sense, and the unique urges of his own body. Attuning himself, then, to the people who cared for the most gave him a reference point, a constant variable that he could always rely on no matter how insane things got.
At this moment, however, catching your scent and feeling you up close hurts, because he can't stop his brain from zooming right back towards how it felt for him to hold your corpse in his hands, to know that you were heavy and dead in his arms and it was all his fault. (What if it hadn't worked? What if he had truly killed you? What if, what if, what if--)
But he ought to try and be strong for you, shouldn't he? He's not the one who died out there. He's not the one who suddenly finds himself bereft of a companion who has walked with him and protected him for years, never mind that he's a geist. And don't think about Makoto, just don't. He ought not to be the weak one, not when there's so much at stake and not when he's sure that you need him. Whatever he's worth, given the fucking freak that he is. ]
S... sorry. [ He swallows the sobs, tries to beat them back. IT doesn't quite work. ] Sorry, I-I should stop.
[ And he's pulling back, shrinking in on himself, and trying rather vehemently to wipe the tears from his face and will himself to stop crying. ]
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At this moment, however, catching your scent and feeling you up close hurts, because he can't stop his brain from zooming right back towards how it felt for him to hold your corpse in his hands, to know that you were heavy and dead in his arms and it was all his fault. (What if it hadn't worked? What if he had truly killed you? What if, what if, what if--)
But he ought to try and be strong for you, shouldn't he? He's not the one who died out there. He's not the one who suddenly finds himself bereft of a companion who has walked with him and protected him for years, never mind that he's a geist.
And don't think about Makoto, just don't.He ought not to be the weak one, not when there's so much at stake and not when he's sure that you need him.Whatever he's worth, given the fucking freak that he is.]S... sorry. [ He swallows the sobs, tries to beat them back. IT doesn't quite work. ] Sorry, I-I should stop.
[ And he's pulling back, shrinking in on himself, and trying rather vehemently to wipe the tears from his face and will himself to stop crying. ]