I'd just gotten started... [Koby inhales shakily, exhales on a sob, hating how emotional he's getting, not realizing that the gold threads spiderwebbing across his porcelain skin are slowly, steadily growing smaller. The unleashing of this heaviness that Koby's carried since arriving, somewhere beneath his ribs, threatening to strangle him every single night is...good. It's so good.

It makes it possible to breathe again, even through the tears. Glasses shoved up on top of his head, Koby blinks up at Mihawk with those huge, damp eyes, taking in every feature of his face. Almost fervently, tracing the familiar line of his jaw, his sharp brows, the scalloped beard he's somehow managed to maintain, even in this place. Koby doesn't really stop to consider when he'd taken the time to memorize Mihawk's face.] I can't imagine how much worse it is, for you. You'd already come so far, and done so much.

[The familiar surroundings have Koby's shoulders relaxing slightly, more of the gold sealing up as the door closes behind them. He thinks home, and it sends an almost painful surge of tenderness through him -- as do Mihawk's words. Koby wipes at his tear-streaked cheeks with his free hand, sniffling. It doesn't occur to him, not in this vulnerable, emotional spot, to lie, not when Mihawk's being so honest.

So:] I know you're real. Sometimes it's like -- you're the only thing keeping me sane. Isn't that strange?