Well, that was certainly more of a concrete explanation than Chris had been expecting. Even as Cole explained, Chris understood; he felt the diagnosis, the knowledge of the two halves that made Cole. Understood that the one in charge during the drift was different than the one acting out his daily life. It was forced symbiosis of a single being, the opposite of a drift and what would make everyone else shrink away from lack of comprehension.
Not Chris, though. He knew what it was like to be split by something so amazingly polarizing that to look at it with one pair of eyes gave an entirely different perspective than to look at it with the other. When Cole moved with such a quick and violent snap, Chris followed along. His mind stretched and pulled taut at the sudden burst of fighting spirit coursing through his veins. Like adrenaline reacting to sudden terror, kaiju at the center of it all like they always were—
"Come on, Chris, open my present first."
Chris jerked back. He was at home. It was his birthday. His heart was pounding and things were wrong. There was blood on the floor and the walls, his brother standing over him and the lifeless body of their mother. His hands were slick and he could hardly see for the tears in his eyes. Wyatt was talking and Chris would never forget those crazed words, the last things his brother would ever say.
"Please, don't run! Stop—this is okay, Chris, I promise! I love you, and I love Mom, and don't you see? It's okay, I'm just doing what I have to do," he was explaining, like it was the simplest thing in the world. "Everyone's always said I have to be the strongest and that's what I'm doing. Those kaiju aren't going to stop, so this way you'll be safe. We'll all be safe."
His throat was raw, words weren't coming. That's right; his ear was bleeding where a bullet had already clipped it, an accidental discharge when Chris had charged against his brother and been tossed to the ground next to Piper's corpse. Their aunt was dead. Cousins hiding. Father absent entirely. It was just them now, Wyatt and Chris and whatever demons had destroyed his brother's sanity.
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Not Chris, though. He knew what it was like to be split by something so amazingly polarizing that to look at it with one pair of eyes gave an entirely different perspective than to look at it with the other. When Cole moved with such a quick and violent snap, Chris followed along. His mind stretched and pulled taut at the sudden burst of fighting spirit coursing through his veins. Like adrenaline reacting to sudden terror, kaiju at the center of it all like they always were—
"Come on, Chris, open my present first."
Chris jerked back. He was at home. It was his birthday. His heart was pounding and things were wrong. There was blood on the floor and the walls, his brother standing over him and the lifeless body of their mother. His hands were slick and he could hardly see for the tears in his eyes. Wyatt was talking and Chris would never forget those crazed words, the last things his brother would ever say.
"Please, don't run! Stop—this is okay, Chris, I promise! I love you, and I love Mom, and don't you see? It's okay, I'm just doing what I have to do," he was explaining, like it was the simplest thing in the world. "Everyone's always said I have to be the strongest and that's what I'm doing. Those kaiju aren't going to stop, so this way you'll be safe. We'll all be safe."
His throat was raw, words weren't coming. That's right; his ear was bleeding where a bullet had already clipped it, an accidental discharge when Chris had charged against his brother and been tossed to the ground next to Piper's corpse. Their aunt was dead. Cousins hiding. Father absent entirely. It was just them now, Wyatt and Chris and whatever demons had destroyed his brother's sanity.