[It's at that point that he realizes there's so much he wants to tell her. He wants to say that for that whole night, that whole battle he'd fought alone, there was no time to believe in himself, so maybe it's good that someone did. He wants to say that he wouldn't be here at all if it wasn't for Kakyoin, and the warning Jiji had carried to him just in the nick of time. He wants to say how much it rattles him now to contemplate the sheer magnitude of all of the things he did and faced and endured in those fifty days, now that he's actually got the time to stop and consider them at all. He wants to tell her that the doctors had said that Jiji was dead, and he's only here now because he was too fucked-up and distraught and high on adrenaline to accept that.
But the words stick in his throat and cling there, and he can't make himself force them out. He can't talk about it, he just can't. It's all so crazy, it still doesn't seem real.]
...Dad didn't call, or anything?
[Honestly, he doesn't know why that's what slips out. Maybe it's because it's the only thing that doesn't feel like it's behind a wall about to burst, increasing pressure that he's trying desperately to push back against.]
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But the words stick in his throat and cling there, and he can't make himself force them out. He can't talk about it, he just can't. It's all so crazy, it still doesn't seem real.]
...Dad didn't call, or anything?
[Honestly, he doesn't know why that's what slips out. Maybe it's because it's the only thing that doesn't feel like it's behind a wall about to burst, increasing pressure that he's trying desperately to push back against.]