[Having it brought to the forefront again makes bile nearly rise in his throat, and he has to choke it back. Deep breaths, deep breaths, he's visibly trying to calm himself; take what you learned in therapy to heart, Okabe. How awful it is to remember the way he'd felt, the first time he saw Mayuri dead, the first time he saw Moeka's hands shaking with that gun clasped between them. It never got easier.]
[He's not alone right now, with the burden of that memory - perhaps with the knowledge of what it means, but not the memory itself. That makes it worse.]
And you know what I saw already. [Okabe doesn't know what to say to it, not remotely. Knowing she was that close to death, but not why - it hurts him, somewhere, makes him want to know more and calm her. (He's not a man devoid of empathy, despite what he'd have people think.) He stays quiet for a second, thinking...]
[But he looks up and ] Okabe Rintaro, by the way. --That's my name. And yes, it was time travel.
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[He's not alone right now, with the burden of that memory - perhaps with the knowledge of what it means, but not the memory itself. That makes it worse.]
And you know what I saw already. [Okabe doesn't know what to say to it, not remotely. Knowing she was that close to death, but not why - it hurts him, somewhere, makes him want to know more and calm her. (He's not a man devoid of empathy, despite what he'd have people think.) He stays quiet for a second, thinking...]
[But he looks up and ] Okabe Rintaro, by the way. --That's my name. And yes, it was time travel.