[ There's a part of him that wants to lash out in anger: why is this person following him? Pursuing him? Is he going to have to fight him off? Yell at him? Who does he think he is?
Who is he?
The headache builds, pushing at his temples, and he wants so badly just to claw his head open to drag it out. It's confusing to hear those words out of his own mouth and not understand them; it's even worse to get hit with the words that fall from the stranger's lips next.
I died. In front of you.
A soft sound escapes, pressed between clenched teeth, and he can feel his knees buckle--his legs hit the dirt, both hands clutched at either side of his head, and something inside of him screams at him, begging him to act normal, be normal, other people are probably staring, this stranger probably thinks he's crazy--
Memories build and flash in his mind: a gentle gloved hand, patting at his hair, a warm, reassuring voice telling him about his dreams. Something about backwater this-or-that--becoming a mercenary--Midgar--
Doubled over, he can't even bring himself the strength to say anything at all. He bends there, down on folded legs in the dirt, and tries to find some way to force the debilitating headache to pass. If it doesn't, he worries he might just pass out. ]
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Who is he?
The headache builds, pushing at his temples, and he wants so badly just to claw his head open to drag it out. It's confusing to hear those words out of his own mouth and not understand them; it's even worse to get hit with the words that fall from the stranger's lips next.
I died. In front of you.
A soft sound escapes, pressed between clenched teeth, and he can feel his knees buckle--his legs hit the dirt, both hands clutched at either side of his head, and something inside of him screams at him, begging him to act normal, be normal, other people are probably staring, this stranger probably thinks he's crazy--
Memories build and flash in his mind: a gentle gloved hand, patting at his hair, a warm, reassuring voice telling him about his dreams. Something about backwater this-or-that--becoming a mercenary--Midgar--
Doubled over, he can't even bring himself the strength to say anything at all. He bends there, down on folded legs in the dirt, and tries to find some way to force the debilitating headache to pass. If it doesn't, he worries he might just pass out. ]