And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do
The oars slowed, not all at once, but enough to shift the rhythm into something momentarily measured. The rowboat rocked gently in the tide, the bow pivoting slightly as Everest let the current take them for a moment—just a moment, while he turned his eyes back to Isla. Her voice wasn’t sharp or prying. It was quiet; the kind of question you didn’t ask unless it had been sitting behind your teeth for a while, and though the man the aviator had once been wouldn't have understood such things, the one in the boat with the Remedy did.
And so he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he rested the oars across his knees and glanced down at the water between them, watching it fracture the reflection of her dress into ribbons of colour. "I don’t feel infected," he said finally. "That’s the part that makes this difficult. I know I should. I know there are things about me now that wouldn’t make sense to the version of me you first met." His tone wasn’t defensive—just… quietly factual. He lifted one hand and rubbed the back of his neck. "But everything that used to make my head feel like a hallway full of tripping hazards is just… gone. There’s silence. Room to breathe."
He paused, fingers trailing over the edge of the boat.
"Room to love you." Lifting his eyes, the aviator forces his restless fingers away from the side of the boat, reaching out a hand for one of Isla's. "Truthfully, I want them to stop what they're doing. With these flowers, with marching on Starfall, and not because the Family is making me feel that way, but...because I don't know who I'll be if I'm forced back to the way that I was."
And so he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he rested the oars across his knees and glanced down at the water between them, watching it fracture the reflection of her dress into ribbons of colour. "I don’t feel infected," he said finally. "That’s the part that makes this difficult. I know I should. I know there are things about me now that wouldn’t make sense to the version of me you first met." His tone wasn’t defensive—just… quietly factual. He lifted one hand and rubbed the back of his neck. "But everything that used to make my head feel like a hallway full of tripping hazards is just… gone. There’s silence. Room to breathe."
He paused, fingers trailing over the edge of the boat.
"Room to love you." Lifting his eyes, the aviator forces his restless fingers away from the side of the boat, reaching out a hand for one of Isla's. "Truthfully, I want them to stop what they're doing. With these flowers, with marching on Starfall, and not because the Family is making me feel that way, but...because I don't know who I'll be if I'm forced back to the way that I was."
