[ Maybe before he'd have gone along with those images being just dreams, when he didn't know any better or hadn't been told of anything. Just continuing on living an innocent, normal life, never mind that it'd been fake. A simulated world of happiness where all he had to worry about were the school assignments and spending time with his friends while avoiding any run-ins with Seifer and his gang.
Before when dreams are dreams and anything is possible, no limits to the imagination.
But now he knows that those dreams weren't really dreams, that they are really flashbacks of memories that aren't even his. Scenes of a life and adventure that he would have liked to have gone himself but thought he wouldn't be able to. It'd been a dream, right? Finding out that they'd been real, had really happened to someone brought nothing but confusion. Finding out that they belonged to someone who is his other half and that he's not meant to exist brought anger (and denial).
His life is still his own though, the scattered memories that have returned to him- are still returning, albeit slowly -they're his. And that should be proof enough that he's not some shell of an existence. He's lived and the memories are testament to that.
That didn't mean he doesn't want to know the answers to his questions.
At the mention of the rain, he hadn't even realized it until now, so lost in his own thoughts. But the slight distraction gives way to a lull, water only pattering now instead of pouring down on the city they stand in. Even if he wants to, where would they go? ]
It's fine here. [ A delay in saying what he should, what he wants. ]
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[ Maybe before he'd have gone along with those images being just dreams, when he didn't know any better or hadn't been told of anything. Just continuing on living an innocent, normal life, never mind that it'd been fake. A simulated world of happiness where all he had to worry about were the school assignments and spending time with his friends while avoiding any run-ins with Seifer and his gang.
Before when dreams are dreams and anything is possible, no limits to the imagination.
But now he knows that those dreams weren't really dreams, that they are really flashbacks of memories that aren't even his. Scenes of a life and adventure that he would have liked to have gone himself but thought he wouldn't be able to. It'd been a dream, right? Finding out that they'd been real, had really happened to someone brought nothing but confusion. Finding out that they belonged to someone who is his other half and that he's not meant to exist brought anger (and denial).
His life is still his own though, the scattered memories that have returned to him- are still returning, albeit slowly -they're his. And that should be proof enough that he's not some shell of an existence. He's lived and the memories are testament to that.
That didn't mean he doesn't want to know the answers to his questions.
At the mention of the rain, he hadn't even realized it until now, so lost in his own thoughts. But the slight distraction gives way to a lull, water only pattering now instead of pouring down on the city they stand in. Even if he wants to, where would they go? ]
It's fine here. [ A delay in saying what he should, what he wants. ]
.. I want to know. Everything.