[ The more you love someone, the more it'll hurt when you lose them.
Somehow, someday, Red finally remembers this. It must be the stage of grief where his emotions finally have no lower they can go than to fall down into acceptance. Nagito's gone, and he may never come back. Just like Cilan. Just like Alvin. Just like Lu Meng. Just like all the rest.
The likelihood of seeing them again was lower than the possibility that he would. This was very well it.
And it's okay. It doesn't feel okay, and in the day it finally dawns upon him, out in the island's open air and the world continuing to move on despite his disregard for it, he knows that it's fine to feel that way. The tears don't fall as they've wanted to thus far, but they get the chance later on when he returns to the letter and soaks it in completely.
He lets it all out until he's dry, until all he has is hiccups and pains and a shaking body. And yet still he finds more to give, letting himself miss them in more than just anger; to think about them, to remember, every good and every bad and every recollection of their face in his heart. He lets it hurt as bad as it'll get, just so he can know how much he loved them. How much he'll miss them. How much he is.
His body and mind eventually give way to an early night, and the next day--
5/6
Somehow, someday, Red finally remembers this. It must be the stage of grief where his emotions finally have no lower they can go than to fall down into acceptance. Nagito's gone, and he may never come back. Just like Cilan. Just like Alvin. Just like Lu Meng. Just like all the rest.
The likelihood of seeing them again was lower than the possibility that he would. This was very well it.
And it's okay. It doesn't feel okay, and in the day it finally dawns upon him, out in the island's open air and the world continuing to move on despite his disregard for it, he knows that it's fine to feel that way. The tears don't fall as they've wanted to thus far, but they get the chance later on when he returns to the letter and soaks it in completely.
He lets it all out until he's dry, until all he has is hiccups and pains and a shaking body. And yet still he finds more to give, letting himself miss them in more than just anger; to think about them, to remember, every good and every bad and every recollection of their face in his heart. He lets it hurt as bad as it'll get, just so he can know how much he loved them. How much he'll miss them. How much he is.
His body and mind eventually give way to an early night, and the next day--
The next day is just another day.
But it'll be alright. ]