He'd steeled himself against their pain - his and hers alike - and set himself to walk away, leaving it behind on the ice. A quick, clean cut, excising the hurt and everything that had caused it: trust, friendship, affection. All the things that made the wound go so much deeper than any stranger could reach.
He took one step and heard her fall. Heard the tears in her voice, and clenched his jaw tight against it--
Deimos, gaze black and hard, face stone, turning and walking away from him.
The memory flashed across his vision and the courier's step faltered.
Stopped.
"I..." He didn't know what to say. Hurt, angry because of it, too proud to turn around but not wanting to inflict on Delia what he had gone through with Deimos. He was a mess of conflicting emotions and he ducked his head, wrapping his arms around himself as he stared down at the snow at his feet, seeking answers it could not give him.
"You stuck the knife in when I was already hurtin' an' I... I don't know what else I can do but go away so it'll stop." He squeezed his eyes shut for a few breaths, then opened them again and inhaled shakily, forcing himself to speak slowly and calmly in spite of the emotions that sent shivers of anxiety and tension through him. "An'... you're not sorry for what you said, are you? Just... just that I didn't react the way y'wanted me to. That I got mad an' hurt instead o' rollin' over an' showin' you my belly." Except... she said she hadn't thought before she'd spoken.
Something he was guilty of more often than not. Most of the time he opened his mouth, really.
His scowl deepened, but it wasn't aimed at Delia as he hunched his shoulders against his own shadow on the snow.
He took one step and heard her fall. Heard the tears in her voice, and clenched his jaw tight against it--
Deimos, gaze black and hard, face stone, turning and walking away from him.
The memory flashed across his vision and the courier's step faltered.
Stopped.
"I..." He didn't know what to say. Hurt, angry because of it, too proud to turn around but not wanting to inflict on Delia what he had gone through with Deimos. He was a mess of conflicting emotions and he ducked his head, wrapping his arms around himself as he stared down at the snow at his feet, seeking answers it could not give him.
"You stuck the knife in when I was already hurtin' an' I... I don't know what else I can do but go away so it'll stop." He squeezed his eyes shut for a few breaths, then opened them again and inhaled shakily, forcing himself to speak slowly and calmly in spite of the emotions that sent shivers of anxiety and tension through him. "An'... you're not sorry for what you said, are you? Just... just that I didn't react the way y'wanted me to. That I got mad an' hurt instead o' rollin' over an' showin' you my belly." Except... she said she hadn't thought before she'd spoken.
Something he was guilty of more often than not. Most of the time he opened his mouth, really.
His scowl deepened, but it wasn't aimed at Delia as he hunched his shoulders against his own shadow on the snow.
