[ tears. it's the sight of them that jolt erik because he so rarely remembers what tears are for. for the first time, he doesn't see t'chaka in the shadow of shinji's pain but another person . . .

"No tears for me?"

the urge to reach out to his necklace is overwhelming. to feel the cut of metal against his fingers, to dig into his skin. to make him bleed. they're both abandoned here and erik — erik was regurgitating the cycle of fatalism. what would his father want him to say here? what should he do?

he breathes it out. by any means necessary malcolm x had once said. but he can't live that way anymore.

he's not even alive. ]

I just don't want to. Yeah, it's hard to separate the bad shit. It's ingrained in me. I'm never gonna get it out.

Hating things just blackens the heart. It eats you inside out. Even if you're hatin' yourself.

Like you do.