#even if Regill cared enough to try i don't know Theo would be able to handle that

[offsidekineticist]

△ Theo (bleachling specifically), if you could have 5 minutes of time to speak to your brother again without any other distractions or interference and he HAD to listen. What would you say to him?

Under a cut because this is like 11/10 so CW: panic attack and self-harm (intentionally aggravating an old injury as a response to anxiety)

He freezes. His expression, previously warm, goes mostly blank. Mostly, except for the ways his eyes widen and his stone gray flesh turns ashy. He opens and closes his mouth several times, and you realize he's trying to speak but nothing is coming out.

"Please...don't make me answer that," he finally chokes out, trying to hold a stoic expression but shaking nonetheless.

"You must answer. Those are the terms," the Questioner says. Theoven wraps his arms around his chest, hands tucked between his side and his arm less carefully than you would have expected, the shaking persisting.

"I...I don't think I'd be able to speak," he says, voice unsteady. "Does - does that answer the question? Please, I swear, every time I saw him - or the thing that seemed like him - in that place, I couldn't - it wouldn't - " he stops himself, and you see his shoulders bobbing up and down with every breath, each breath coming more quickly than the last. He nods in a hollow imitation of confidence. "Yes, that is my answer. I wouldn't be able to speak."

"'Without any other distractions or interference,'" the Questioner repeats. "Loss of the ability to speak would inarguably be a distraction."

"I don't want to see him!" Theoven barely gets the words out through the sob he cant hold back any longer, and now his cheeks are darkening again, and he squeezes his eyes shut trying to clear the tears. He slouches, curling in on himself, arms held so rigidly against his body that his hands must hurt terribly, and you can tell the only reason he doesnt curl up into a fetal position is theres no room for it at the table where he's seated. "I don't want to know - if he was there, I don't want to know! I don't want to hear him tell me why he - how he - I don't want to remember him like that!" His sobs are more violent now, racking his body as he struggles for breath. His breaths are sharp and loud and fast, each one sounding almost like the bark of a sick dog.

The Questioner waits.

It takes time, but slowly - painfully slowly - the sobs die down, becoming more like hiccups. They slow, coming less and less often, until he is breathing normally again.

"I would ask him to leave," Theoven finally says softly, head bowed as he stares at his lap, arms still pressing his hands painfully into his side. "I'm sorry. I know that...if he wasn't...wasn't there, there are things he deserves to hear me say but - I don't think I can say them anymore. And if he was there - " he stops. "He hated spiders. Loved chess. Every brawl I ever lost, he was there with a stern, rambling lecture and enough potions that my mentors at the library never noticed an injury. I should be allowed to remember him like that. I shouldn't have to remember - " he stops and slightly shakes his head before whispering, "I would ask him to leave."

The Questioner is satisfied.