He wasn't prepared. It's not the gore, of course. He's seen and heard worse over the years, in his line of work, and he's gotten good at compartmentalizing it and forcing it aside in everything but his nightmares. He can feel himself doing it now, without even having to trigger it consciously.
But he can't set everything aside.
It's Chisa. Even though what's happening to her in the memory is less extreme than what's happening in the video she's being forced to watch, that makes it personal. He'd come in here expecting to dispute the validity of the memory, ask Komaeda whether they could be fabricated, because he can't believe, can't even begin to comprehend that this could have actually happened to his best friend—but watching the thing kills that need dead. No one makes up memories like this. Not even a Despair, or ex-Despair. It's vivid and sick and disgustingly personal. It's everything Enoshima Junko would do. He knows that himself.
Still, he watches all of it, with an expression of open horror he doesn't even bother trying to keep in check. That's not where his mind is right now. His mind feels like it isn't much of anywhere, in fact; he's watching the video and also watching himself watch the video and also watching the entire past several years with Chisa unfold like a tapestry, threads pulling loose, until the whole thing unravels into a heap of string.
When it's over, he "hears" Komaeda in the same way he might overhear someone on the phone through a closed door, but he turns towards him anyway, throat bobbing in a hard swallow. God, his mouth tastes disgusting right now.
All of the emotional effects he'd brought with him when he came in pause. The tension is still there, and building. The air feels tight with it. But they're waiting, for just a moment.]
E . . . Enoshima. She . . . that's how . . . ? And she—Yukizome—Chisa? Enoshima—?
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He wasn't prepared. It's not the gore, of course. He's seen and heard worse over the years, in his line of work, and he's gotten good at compartmentalizing it and forcing it aside in everything but his nightmares. He can feel himself doing it now, without even having to trigger it consciously.
But he can't set everything aside.
It's Chisa. Even though what's happening to her in the memory is less extreme than what's happening in the video she's being forced to watch, that makes it personal. He'd come in here expecting to dispute the validity of the memory, ask Komaeda whether they could be fabricated, because he can't believe, can't even begin to comprehend that this could have actually happened to his best friend—but watching the thing kills that need dead. No one makes up memories like this. Not even a Despair, or ex-Despair. It's vivid and sick and disgustingly personal. It's everything Enoshima Junko would do. He knows that himself.
Still, he watches all of it, with an expression of open horror he doesn't even bother trying to keep in check. That's not where his mind is right now. His mind feels like it isn't much of anywhere, in fact; he's watching the video and also watching himself watch the video and also watching the entire past several years with Chisa unfold like a tapestry, threads pulling loose, until the whole thing unravels into a heap of string.
When it's over, he "hears" Komaeda in the same way he might overhear someone on the phone through a closed door, but he turns towards him anyway, throat bobbing in a hard swallow. God, his mouth tastes disgusting right now.
All of the emotional effects he'd brought with him when he came in pause. The tension is still there, and building. The air feels tight with it. But they're waiting, for just a moment.]
E . . . Enoshima. She . . . that's how . . . ? And she—Yukizome—Chisa? Enoshima—?