"You forgave another version of me. I'm not even..." How does he deserve that? Confusion is standard but the mire of emotions that explanation has dredged up doesn't service itself to anything except for the most straightforward and immediate and familiar out it knows how to take.

A vindictive, acidic cling of something he recognizes as steel-toned hatred swells up at the back of his throat, pointless and petty and wholly discharged in the direction of his quantum clone, separated by dimensions, because metabolizing shit into anger is still the easiest thing in the world. Fuck him, for leaving them both to this shit.

It's senseless, but it lightens the weight of things. Marginally.

"I'm not him. Does that change anything?"