[ Frankly, it's hard to say he's ever felt anything quite as strange as mourning the loss of a guy which happened before you got to know him. There's an absolute ton of uncertainty surrounding this whole thing — death, and how it works in an already chaotic system like this one. People get sent home often enough — Kyna left and came back, Will just flat out left. What happens if Nate goes? Will it happen if there's nothing back there for him?
The longer it sits the more questions start to flood in. He wants to answer them with logic, or find a pattern that might paint a clearer picture, but there isn't a single speck of anything that would let him start to puzzle it out.
And it's not even him. ]
Jesus, I can't believe--
[ He catches himself, stops there. Can't believe you've sat with it this long. Months without talking about it — except with Lance, and thank god for him, but still. That's a lot to carry around and ignore.
Except it'd be hypocritical of him to say that, and it wouldn't actually help anything.
The touch against the back of his hand leaves him twisting a little more tightly inside. A pervasive and unrelenting urge to solve, to demonstrate his value by finding a solution where there isn't one. Can't go back and stop it, can't give him anything to make it easier, all he can really do is sit here and empathize.
Well. He could-
He licks his lips, and while it isn't quite accurate to say he speaks falteringly, there's definitely a deliberate slowness to his words - feeling out the ice before he settles his weight on it each step. ]
Would it help-- I don't know, maybe not, but would it help to... show somebody?
[ The memory of dying, the last little bit? Seems like knowing somebody understands might... do something. What the fuck does he know? He took two psych classes a decade and a half ago and retained like 7% of them. ]
no subject
The longer it sits the more questions start to flood in. He wants to answer them with logic, or find a pattern that might paint a clearer picture, but there isn't a single speck of anything that would let him start to puzzle it out.
And it's not even him. ]
Jesus, I can't believe--
[ He catches himself, stops there. Can't believe you've sat with it this long. Months without talking about it — except with Lance, and thank god for him, but still. That's a lot to carry around and ignore.
Except it'd be hypocritical of him to say that, and it wouldn't actually help anything.
The touch against the back of his hand leaves him twisting a little more tightly inside. A pervasive and unrelenting urge to solve, to demonstrate his value by finding a solution where there isn't one. Can't go back and stop it, can't give him anything to make it easier, all he can really do is sit here and empathize.
Well. He could-
He licks his lips, and while it isn't quite accurate to say he speaks falteringly, there's definitely a deliberate slowness to his words - feeling out the ice before he settles his weight on it each step. ]
Would it help-- I don't know, maybe not, but would it help to... show somebody?
[ The memory of dying, the last little bit? Seems like knowing somebody understands might... do something. What the fuck does he know? He took two psych classes a decade and a half ago and retained like 7% of them. ]