The laughtrack playing on the television at his expense sounds flat by now. There's no humour in anything. The laughter is dull and lifeless. The robotic Komeji's tone also becomes flatter and flatter, its delivery unwell.
[ oh good. this is now starting to actually get unnerving because the entirety of andes komeji's personality was always loud and obnoxious and bright, a man who didn't care what people thought of him as long as he could make them smile somehow, and yet a man who got in way too far over his head.
the question's asked, and he simply stares at him. ]
...I didn't mean it. [ or maybe he did at the time? no okay that's crazy, obviously he didn't want his father to actually die a few hours after he'd said it, but...his emotions are equally loud and obnoxious and bright and not always in the best way. ] Of course I remember them.
[ of course it does. it's been six years and he's still very much not over it and coping poorly. ]
I didn't mean it. [ repeating himself doesn't help, but yeah. it does, sometimes. often, actually, because he knows now that after they argued, his father went to studio dvaita and things went south.
but it wasn't all because of him. his father had made those choices on his own. but he hadn't helped, had he? ]
[ It's quiet again. The chill is settling in, something cold and once again -- lonely, so very lonely. Even the kotatsu barely helps -- it's a physical warmth, but it feels more like something that's lodged itself deeper in, in your heart, bleeding forever.
'You didn't mean it, but it doesn't change a thing.'
'What is cast cannot be undone. Right?'
With the frost, the world loses more and more of its colour.
it's a familiar feeling, but it's also an awful, lonely one. the warmth of the home drains away slowly leaving it almost a shell of itself. even if this isn't really his father, he can't look at him. he also can't really answer the question, hands balling into fists and gripping the bloody fabric of his jeans. ]
I... [ how do you say "alone"? how do you say "poorly"? how do you say any of the things that have led to an existence alone where not only is everyone different than you the people you love are gone? ] ...Dad, what am I supposed to do?
[ he feels incredibly stupid for asking when he knows this isn't real, just like he feels incredibly stupid trying not to straight up start crying, but nobody else is here so maybe it's just a reflection of the thoughts he's been avoiding for too long. ]
[ this is right. he has always found it easier to talk to and work with machines than people, especially lately. machines are less likely to hurt him and judge him. he still doesn't look up, turning the question over in his head. ]
I don't know. [ honestly. ] Everyone...I don't want to be left behind anymore. But I don't know how to fix this.
The option is always there, technically. It was your dad's own foolishness that led him down the path he went -- it was your sister's own impulse that led her to the den of the lion.
Have you ever considered you're too busy thinking of the life you have lived, rather than the life you could be living?
[ because it's what he knows. he can't fix the past, and the future is in shambles and unpredictable. at least if nothing changes he knows what to expect. not that that's an excuse.
"I heard you haven't been going to school. Do you mind telling me why?"
"I do mind, but I'll tell you. Isn't it obvious? I'm all alone."
he has to keep going at least for amame's sake. he has to be by her side and support her until someone else can come along and do so. but what about after that? and what about now in the time she's gone? is college even an option? does he even have a future when he, himself, can never physically change? mentally he's changed a lot, but there's always that disconnect.
why stay in the cold... ]
Because I'm tired. [ which isn't much of an answer but it does encompass a few things. he's tired of living sometimes. he's tired of fighting and dealing with the way the world views him more often than not. he's tired of not being able to defend himself properly. he's tired of thinking how he's going to outlive everyone and be alone in the end no matter what. he's tired of...everything. it's a deep-seated depression he's well aware exists, so how do you even...
the door to the cage has been open, but he's too scared to leave. ]
[ The admission is difficult, isn't it? Frost laces your breath as you say it out loud -- it doesn't matter that your answer, verbally, doesn't say much. After all, this is your confessional created by the Bough. The only answer that matters is the one that means something to yourself.
It's quiet, but it still feels like it cracks the ice somehow.
[ well considering he would never say this out loud, sure, it means something. he continues to think to himself. ]
...if it goes wrong, too. What then? [ that's the biggest obstacle. things sometimes feel like they're going to be okay, and then things go wrong. isn't that the case in boarding the eudora, too? ] I want to. But I don't know if I can.
[ The more you close in on yourself, the more you realise you're not even sure where you are anymore.
This room you're in -- this house you're in. It's nothing more than a replica, some kind of illusion. You knew that, of course, but it somehow feels more poignant now suddenly.
You don't belong in the sun. It just doesn't feel right. It's too bright out there for someone who shunned happiness in the simple things when you still had the chance.
You realise you really are alone. It's like when you first came in and sat in the kotatsu -- the television is silent. There's nobody sitting next to you. You feel a very cold draft coming from your front door, whose window pane is ominously black now, no light coming in. It draws you towards it, like a visiting wraith.
...
Well, there isn't much point in sitting around, is there? ]
[ he knew it was all fake to begin with, but somehow it still stings to realize he really was alone for all of this.
there's nothing left for him here, except for the thoughts and questions that were asked.
"will you ever take it?"
...he hadn't really realized that there was still a desperation left in him that does, in fact, want to. but maybe it's too late.
he gets up from the kotatsu and he starts to move, following the draft from the door. it's freezing still, physically and internally, but there's no point staying here when it's just a reminder of the lack of change. so. he'll open the door to step back out. ]
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no subject
The laughtrack playing on the television at his expense sounds flat by now. There's no humour in anything. The laughter is dull and lifeless. The robotic Komeji's tone also becomes flatter and flatter, its delivery unwell.
'That was all a while ago now. Wasn't it?'
'The last words you said to me.'
'Do you still remember them?' ]
no subject
the question's asked, and he simply stares at him. ]
...I didn't mean it. [ or maybe he did at the time? no okay that's crazy, obviously he didn't want his father to actually die a few hours after he'd said it, but...his emotions are equally loud and obnoxious and bright and not always in the best way. ] Of course I remember them.
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'It isn't as if you sent me there. It isn't as if you put me in that body bag.'
'But sometimes, it feels like you did, didn't it?' ]
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I didn't mean it. [ repeating himself doesn't help, but yeah. it does, sometimes. often, actually, because he knows now that after they argued, his father went to studio dvaita and things went south.
but it wasn't all because of him. his father had made those choices on his own. but he hadn't helped, had he? ]
no subject
'You didn't mean it, but it doesn't change a thing.'
'What is cast cannot be undone. Right?'
With the frost, the world loses more and more of its colour.
'Since I've been gone...'
'How have you been living your life, Shoma?' ]
no subject
it's a familiar feeling, but it's also an awful, lonely one. the warmth of the home drains away slowly leaving it almost a shell of itself. even if this isn't really his father, he can't look at him. he also can't really answer the question, hands balling into fists and gripping the bloody fabric of his jeans. ]
I... [ how do you say "alone"? how do you say "poorly"? how do you say any of the things that have led to an existence alone where not only is everyone different than you the people you love are gone? ] ...Dad, what am I supposed to do?
[ he feels incredibly stupid for asking when he knows this isn't real, just like he feels incredibly stupid trying not to straight up start crying, but nobody else is here so maybe it's just a reflection of the thoughts he's been avoiding for too long. ]
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Komeji seems to consider this for a moment, its head turning slowly to Blank again. He rephrases the question.
'How do you want to live your life?' ]
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I don't know. [ honestly. ] Everyone...I don't want to be left behind anymore. But I don't know how to fix this.
no subject
The option is always there, technically. It was your dad's own foolishness that led him down the path he went -- it was your sister's own impulse that led her to the den of the lion.
Have you ever considered you're too busy thinking of the life you have lived, rather than the life you could be living?
'Why stay in the cold, Shoma?' ]
no subject
"I heard you haven't been going to school. Do you mind telling me why?"
"I do mind, but I'll tell you. Isn't it obvious? I'm all alone."
he has to keep going at least for amame's sake. he has to be by her side and support her until someone else can come along and do so. but what about after that? and what about now in the time she's gone? is college even an option? does he even have a future when he, himself, can never physically change? mentally he's changed a lot, but there's always that disconnect.
why stay in the cold... ]
Because I'm tired. [ which isn't much of an answer but it does encompass a few things. he's tired of living sometimes. he's tired of fighting and dealing with the way the world views him more often than not. he's tired of not being able to defend himself properly. he's tired of thinking how he's going to outlive everyone and be alone in the end no matter what. he's tired of...everything. it's a deep-seated depression he's well aware exists, so how do you even...
the door to the cage has been open, but he's too scared to leave. ]
no subject
It's quiet, but it still feels like it cracks the ice somehow.
'The warmth is waiting for you, out there.'
'Will you ever take it?' ]
no subject
...if it goes wrong, too. What then? [ that's the biggest obstacle. things sometimes feel like they're going to be okay, and then things go wrong. isn't that the case in boarding the eudora, too? ] I want to. But I don't know if I can.
no subject
This room you're in -- this house you're in. It's nothing more than a replica, some kind of illusion. You knew that, of course, but it somehow feels more poignant now suddenly.
You don't belong in the sun. It just doesn't feel right. It's too bright out there for someone who shunned happiness in the simple things when you still had the chance.
You realise you really are alone. It's like when you first came in and sat in the kotatsu -- the television is silent. There's nobody sitting next to you. You feel a very cold draft coming from your front door, whose window pane is ominously black now, no light coming in. It draws you towards it, like a visiting wraith.
...
Well, there isn't much point in sitting around, is there? ]
no subject
there's nothing left for him here, except for the thoughts and questions that were asked.
"will you ever take it?"
...he hadn't really realized that there was still a desperation left in him that does, in fact, want to. but maybe it's too late.
he gets up from the kotatsu and he starts to move, following the draft from the door. it's freezing still, physically and internally, but there's no point staying here when it's just a reminder of the lack of change. so. he'll open the door to step back out. ]
no subject