Aki certainly remembered, or he wouldn't have been able to tell him that Minato had died. Aigis had. Minako had. Maybe everyone else on their side of the coin just had to catch up. Maybe they all had eventually remembered and made it there in time to say goodbye, and were able to fulfill the promise that they made. That's what she had been living for, hadn't she? Wouldn't she have made sure to see it through?
But he guesses he hadn't really made that promise himself, so maybe he wasn't there. Might have just woken up in the hospital with no idea why he was there. He'd finally be able to forget everything that happened during those years if he understood things correctly. No Dark Hour, no memory of it. But for all the comfort that would bring, he can't see that being true for long. If forgetting came with the price tag with no longer remembering the people who were important to you, he's not sure he wanted it, because those memories were one of the few things that kept him going all those years. It was like his own December offer: to forget and live out whatever life remaining to him before he died, oblivious, or to remember and have to fight through every day like he had been since two years ago. He knows what he'd choose.
And if he's never been able to do one thing, it's forget.
Why would that ever change?]
...I'm not angry with you. You did what you had to do.
[How the hell could he ever be angry?
Hell, he doesn't even know what he should be feeling right now anymore. Everything's just this sudden maelstrom of emotion he can't label properly that's coalesced together until it's no longer any one distinct thing, but a singular void of numb indecision, as if a you had mixed different colors of paint together until you couldn't see anything but black, unsure what emotion is supposed to stay at the surface, what color it's supposed to be.
no subject
Aki certainly remembered, or he wouldn't have been able to tell him that Minato had died. Aigis had. Minako had. Maybe everyone else on their side of the coin just had to catch up. Maybe they all had eventually remembered and made it there in time to say goodbye, and were able to fulfill the promise that they made. That's what she had been living for, hadn't she? Wouldn't she have made sure to see it through?
But he guesses he hadn't really made that promise himself, so maybe he wasn't there. Might have just woken up in the hospital with no idea why he was there. He'd finally be able to forget everything that happened during those years if he understood things correctly. No Dark Hour, no memory of it. But for all the comfort that would bring, he can't see that being true for long. If forgetting came with the price tag with no longer remembering the people who were important to you, he's not sure he wanted it, because those memories were one of the few things that kept him going all those years. It was like his own December offer: to forget and live out whatever life remaining to him before he died, oblivious, or to remember and have to fight through every day like he had been since two years ago. He knows what he'd choose.
And if he's never been able to do one thing, it's forget.
Why would that ever change?]
...I'm not angry with you. You did what you had to do.
[How the hell could he ever be angry?
Hell, he doesn't even know what he should be feeling right now anymore. Everything's just this sudden maelstrom of emotion he can't label properly that's coalesced together until it's no longer any one distinct thing, but a singular void of numb indecision, as if a you had mixed different colors of paint together until you couldn't see anything but black, unsure what emotion is supposed to stay at the surface, what color it's supposed to be.
So instead he asks a question:]
Where were you going to meet?