[ That doesn't really clear anything up for him, and his mouth pulls down in dismay and bewilderment both. Still, he isn't stupid. Having one of his visions and asking that sort of question when we've just found ourselves in this place, sitting at the tree where once Allen had-- ...where 'Allen' was buried...
He tries to swallow, throat bobbing. Could his vision... work for past memories as well? Like Allen's own seemed to finally be waking up as? It had only happened a few times now, moments when he had stopped to help someone where he'd be lost in a moment of vertigo and feel himself experiencing things that had happened to them. They were quick though, alarming and somewhat frightening in that it wasn't a thing he didn't understand, but none had lasted long enough for him to gain anything more than a quick snapshot that left him reeling.
The thought is... terrifying if he lets himself consider that. What it could mean he might begin to see.
It doesn't matter though. Not right now, and he leans in. Legs shifting slightly to either side of him, to gently try and brush back some of his tears before they freeze -- and to press his lips to the corner of his left eye and the scar there. Warmly but gossamer, delicate as a butterfly's wing, and he holds it for a long and purposeful moment. Don't drown, you're not alone.
(And please don't cry so because of him.) ]
I'm alive right now, aren't I? [ He says it so softly, pulling back only enough to press their foreheads together and let their hair mesh. So very solemn and quiet, his eyes calmly to Shouto's. Gentle and sorrowful. ]
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He tries to swallow, throat bobbing. Could his vision... work for past memories as well? Like Allen's own seemed to finally be waking up as? It had only happened a few times now, moments when he had stopped to help someone where he'd be lost in a moment of vertigo and feel himself experiencing things that had happened to them. They were quick though, alarming and somewhat frightening in that it wasn't a thing he didn't understand, but none had lasted long enough for him to gain anything more than a quick snapshot that left him reeling.
The thought is... terrifying if he lets himself consider that. What it could mean he might begin to see.
It doesn't matter though. Not right now, and he leans in. Legs shifting slightly to either side of him, to gently try and brush back some of his tears before they freeze -- and to press his lips to the corner of his left eye and the scar there. Warmly but gossamer, delicate as a butterfly's wing, and he holds it for a long and purposeful moment. Don't drown, you're not alone.
(And please don't cry so because of him.) ]
I'm alive right now, aren't I? [ He says it so softly, pulling back only enough to press their foreheads together and let their hair mesh. So very solemn and quiet, his eyes calmly to Shouto's. Gentle and sorrowful. ]
Shouto. [ It's soft, but serious. ] You're cold.