And he appreciates that, even now, even when his mind is a mix of fragmented memories—some more vivid than others—swirling and coalescing with ones he’s not even sure are real anymore. He might not remember every last detail with perfect clarity yet, but he remembers enough—remembers, he thinks, what’s most important—though it takes more than twenty-four hours for a mind to fully process eighteen years worth of memories.

He’s not sure what he’ll do. Though he feels his other self would have been less inclined to say no—less reasons and less reality-taught inhibitions. And perhaps that part of him should have no say at all in any decisions he makes from this day on, but he can’t just ignore it, just like he can’t pretend that a tails side of the coin doesn’t exist.

He shrugs his shoulders, muscles relaxing, stares at her for a few moments more. Wonders what her other life has been like. How different it’s been. He doesn’t know much about this other life of hers, just bits at pieces, things he imagines most students could learn if they kept their ears and eyes open. But there are a few things, at least, haven’t changed all that much.

Something like a smile tugs at his lips for more few seconds, though no one would be able to prove to a judge and jury that it had ever definitively existed. “So, that go for school too?”