[ He's quiet for a moment, not protesting, just processing the blunt statement. It's not real. He and Howard weren't real. It makes about as much sense as anything else-- more, in fact. It would explain why he can't conjure up any feelings for the man beyond the loathing that was sparked in their first encounter after his accident. He can't remember ever loving Howard Stark, so why would he have ever chosen a life with him?

Especially since Jefferson is quite certain he's felt love before, for somebody, though everything about them-- name, face, age, even their gender-- completely eludes him.

But there's one little problem that complicates everything, and soon enough Jefferson grits out: ] I don't know what's real and what isn't. [ There. He said it. He finally admitted it to somebody. This is a problem that's bigger than he and Howard and that fake, broken relationship. His voice is rough with emotion as he continues, gesturing to his head. ] My head's full of... different worlds. Fantasies. Too many lives for one person to have lived. [ They can't all be real. Jefferson swallows, looking down at his tea. He reaches for it, his hand shaking somewhat, but can't bring himself to take a sip. ] I can't tell the delusions from reality.