Mingyu smiled, quiet and grieved, throat so tight he nearly couldn't breathe.

"I used to think about that all the time," he whispered, gaze distant, half talking to himself. "In the beginning, when I first started learning, when it was all new and... it didn't yet carry all this terrible weight."

Shutting his eyes, he sighed.

"I thought of how excited you'd be at what I picked up. How happy. How proud. Every time I broke through some kind of ceiling, I'd think⁠— 'He'll be so thrilled.'"

Eyes opening once more, he fixed his gaze on Fox again.

"...would you believe I forgot? I forgot all about it. About those feelings. That you'd even be interested in all. I forgot."

He whispered those last words to himself, half in disbelief, struck by the notion all over again as he cast Fox a fragile, horrified look.

"I forgot."

Forgot the very essence of Fox's being.

He forgot.

"God⁠—"

Twisting a hand in his own hair, he hunched over himself, trying to breath, choking on a sudden sob. The loss washed over him and he sank down to his knees right there on the floor.

"It hasn't even⁠— been that long, how did I⁠—"