one of my favorite things to think about late at night is how intrinsic music is for wylan... like, where most parts of his identity don't really exist for him alone (not at first at least) his music is what he always holds on to, and its always there for just him. wylan knows rationally what clinging on to his flute will do, he knows when he brings it with him to visit marya it could be completely pointless, he knows when he's drowning in the harbor the instrument will only weigh him down, and probably kill him but he doesn't let it go. but music is so woven into him—the version of him that sat by his mother at the piano, the one that understands the language in front of him—that he can't (and won't) let go. and even without those memories of what it meant to others, music was the place he got to exist. it was the place he wasn't forced to disappear from.
so when wylan describes the world, he uses music to explain, because that's his language, and that's him. when so much of his identity relies on proving if he deserves to exist or not, there's always a part of him that was music, because wylan had spent so long confiding in music that it makes him as much as he makes it.
so when wylan clings on to his flute in the harbor, he does it because he loves music. and then, even when he tells himself he's going to the barrel to disappear, he chooses to hold on to his music,
