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Summary
“Who am I?” The body asks with its first words.
“Whoever you want to be.” is all he’s left with. The flowers brush up against his ankles; the first friends he’s ever had.
(A post canon TOA fic, where Mr. Ending is forced to reconcile with his old and new lives.)
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Sometimes, they live in a small cottage, far out in a field of golden flowers. Darkness was comfortable and this world has none to offer. The sunlight floods in through the windows and assuages their senses. They’ve come to tolerate it.
Or maybe, in the end, it doesn’t matter. Maybe they were willing to bear the unfamiliarity of the sunlight so long as it meant seeing each other. It’s funny, they find: you can’t hide in the light.
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When they look at each other now, he can’t help but feel as if they’re bracing themselves for the fall of the crescendo all over again. How it soars, and how it hurtles and crashes. A million apologies for a million lifetimes would never suffice. He knows that. He always has.
(A post canon Mother 3 fic, where things are more complicated than they began.)

