Well, that hurt more than he thought it would. Feels the statement burrow down deep into his skin, through muscle and bone, like nails into a coffin. No, he can't be hers. He's not lucky enough for that. Even though he almost had been her other brother, for all of a minute's time. As wrong as he knew it was... it felt nice for a few imagined seconds.
You see now? I'm not your brother.
He's just not qualified for the position. And he'd never want to take Aki's place. He can't. Fool's as dedicated as a dog. It's his title to keep and bear proudly.
"No." But if he could somehow switch places with him, he would. He looks away. "I'm sorry." And he is more than she could ever understand. Guilt for not being some other version of himself. That wasn't something he thought he'd ever get the chance to feel. "Things are different here. The people you see aren't necessarily the people you remember. Sometimes they're close enough there ain't much of a difference, sometimes they're not even the same, sometimes they're who you're looking for."
Like Minako was to him. He is lucky in that. Everyone else so far had been on Minato's side of the coin, though the difference was so minimal otherwise—except for Minako's absence and a few... other things. It bothers him a little sometimes, knowing the Aki in his memories is not the exact same one that he's talked with here. But he's resolved to not let it make a difference, and to be frank, it's not difficult. The difference is minute. A few months' time surrounded by events that had followed more or less the same path under the helm of a different leader. And Aki is Aki, really. This seems to be proving true no matter what timeline the idiot's lived in.
The Aki in Miki's memories, for instance—the one that died, that's the Aki he knows to the very bones. The kid he used to do everything with. It bothers him to know that Aki is dead in her world—the idiot was supposed to live forever and shit—but he accepts it. He got to die how he wanted. And he had saved her. Aki wouldn't have regretted that for a single moment. Dying that way wouldn't have bothered him at all. Did you see that, Shinji? he's probably saying somewhere, looking all smug and accomplished and crap. I did it.
Dumbass.
"In our world, you died in the fire. We couldn't—" he shakes his head. Looks anywhere but at her. Feels his voice abruptly plummet and starts to sound rough and choppy and a little bit broken and his eyes are stinging again "—we couldn't get you out. They stopped Aki from going after you." And all he could do is stand there, torn between two people. Though if Aki had made it, maybe he would have stood a chance. He'll have to try harder next time. "Never quite forgave himself for that—always had trouble." He finally drags his gaze back, his suddenly stormy grey eyes meeting hers. "He'll... be happy to see you."
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Well, that hurt more than he thought it would. Feels the statement burrow down deep into his skin, through muscle and bone, like nails into a coffin. No, he can't be hers. He's not lucky enough for that. Even though he almost had been her other brother, for all of a minute's time. As wrong as he knew it was... it felt nice for a few imagined seconds.
You see now? I'm not your brother.
He's just not qualified for the position. And he'd never want to take Aki's place. He can't. Fool's as dedicated as a dog. It's his title to keep and bear proudly.
"No." But if he could somehow switch places with him, he would. He looks away. "I'm sorry." And he is more than she could ever understand. Guilt for not being some other version of himself. That wasn't something he thought he'd ever get the chance to feel. "Things are different here. The people you see aren't necessarily the people you remember. Sometimes they're close enough there ain't much of a difference, sometimes they're not even the same, sometimes they're who you're looking for."
Like Minako was to him. He is lucky in that. Everyone else so far had been on Minato's side of the coin, though the difference was so minimal otherwise—except for Minako's absence and a few... other things. It bothers him a little sometimes, knowing the Aki in his memories is not the exact same one that he's talked with here. But he's resolved to not let it make a difference, and to be frank, it's not difficult. The difference is minute. A few months' time surrounded by events that had followed more or less the same path under the helm of a different leader. And Aki is Aki, really. This seems to be proving true no matter what timeline the idiot's lived in.
The Aki in Miki's memories, for instance—the one that died, that's the Aki he knows to the very bones. The kid he used to do everything with. It bothers him to know that Aki is dead in her world—the idiot was supposed to live forever and shit—but he accepts it. He got to die how he wanted. And he had saved her. Aki wouldn't have regretted that for a single moment. Dying that way wouldn't have bothered him at all. Did you see that, Shinji? he's probably saying somewhere, looking all smug and accomplished and crap. I did it.
Dumbass.
"In our world, you died in the fire. We couldn't—" he shakes his head. Looks anywhere but at her. Feels his voice abruptly plummet and starts to sound rough and choppy and a little bit broken and his eyes are stinging again "—we couldn't get you out. They stopped Aki from going after you." And all he could do is stand there, torn between two people. Though if Aki had made it, maybe he would have stood a chance. He'll have to try harder next time. "Never quite forgave himself for that—always had trouble." He finally drags his gaze back, his suddenly stormy grey eyes meeting hers. "He'll... be happy to see you."
It's been a long time.
For all of them.
In one way or another.