[It's not like he had much experience with typical childhood games, but Hiyori's grasp on his wrist feels like he's being pulled out from behind a bunch of winter coats. Those words of praise are as dazzling as being yanked into the brightness of a summer afternoon when he'd been confidently hiding a moment ago. Jonathan can only blink, stunned, and shake his head again.]

I wish I knew what it was. She's... I thought I was the broken one, hell... God. I've... I got everything backwards, somehow, didn't I?

[His gaze flicks down, briefly, to the chair he knocked aside. He wants to pick it up, wants to sit down and hear more about what things were like outside his own head while the world turned into hell, but he doesn't want to pull away. He licks his lips, bites down on the lower one - he's stalling for time, carefully choosing words before he says them.]

I don't want to force you to do anything. I just don't get how you see that much good in me, when I didn't even think - didn't stop for just a second to think "hey, maybe we should check everybody got home safe", when that could've saved you.