KOA
Ouch, that one does leave a mark, a bruise of insecurity blooming across the unflappable façade Koa is working to maintain. It's a glancing blow, though, a tiny nick in constructed armor, the Dragoon's lips curling in a rueful half-smile as he shrugs off the verbal attack. "You got me. I've been faking the whole time. This is actually just part of my compulsive need to seek out cute boys at their lowest and bully them into feeling better." An eyebrow lifts above those puppy-dog eyes; he extends the bottle toward Jude again. "Now drink, before my lack of caring makes me pour it on your head."
Look, it's how he's learned to handle Noe, and Koa's points of reference for people actively breaking down are slim.
For whatever reason, it seems to work. Koa's shoulders relax visibly as Jude takes the bottle from him, his eyes staying on the younger man until he's sure there's water being drunk. Settling down into a seated position, he lets his vision slip back to the horizon, prepared to give Jude the time he needs to dictate their next step. With no context for what has happened and no tools to allow him to dig deeper, Koa can only wait for the revelation.
And what a revelation it is.
My dad is dead. It squeezes the breath out of Koa in one hoarse woosh, leaving him feeling tight and hollow, his throat constricted by a grasping fist. "Oh... Jude, shit. I'm sorry." Not eloquent, but what's he meant to say? Making sure someone isn't actively dying and getting them to take medicine is about the end of his training in healthcare management; now that a real crisis is upon him, Koa feels suddenly too large and too awkward, woefully out of place.
Unsure what else he can possibly offer, the Dragoon lays a broad hand on Jude's back, ready to pull the boy against his chest - or to back off, should that be what Jude needs. He remembers that freefall, the overwhelming dread, the realization that the very foundations of his world have been altered in a fundamental, irreparable way. He remembers not knowing what he wanted or needed. All he can offer from the other side is an anchor, a solid, steady support to keep Jude grounded, to make him feel safe enough that he can feel a little of everything else.
Look, it's how he's learned to handle Noe, and Koa's points of reference for people actively breaking down are slim.
For whatever reason, it seems to work. Koa's shoulders relax visibly as Jude takes the bottle from him, his eyes staying on the younger man until he's sure there's water being drunk. Settling down into a seated position, he lets his vision slip back to the horizon, prepared to give Jude the time he needs to dictate their next step. With no context for what has happened and no tools to allow him to dig deeper, Koa can only wait for the revelation.
And what a revelation it is.
My dad is dead. It squeezes the breath out of Koa in one hoarse woosh, leaving him feeling tight and hollow, his throat constricted by a grasping fist. "Oh... Jude, shit. I'm sorry." Not eloquent, but what's he meant to say? Making sure someone isn't actively dying and getting them to take medicine is about the end of his training in healthcare management; now that a real crisis is upon him, Koa feels suddenly too large and too awkward, woefully out of place.
Unsure what else he can possibly offer, the Dragoon lays a broad hand on Jude's back, ready to pull the boy against his chest - or to back off, should that be what Jude needs. He remembers that freefall, the overwhelming dread, the realization that the very foundations of his world have been altered in a fundamental, irreparable way. He remembers not knowing what he wanted or needed. All he can offer from the other side is an anchor, a solid, steady support to keep Jude grounded, to make him feel safe enough that he can feel a little of everything else.
Let me go, I don't wanna be your hero
I don't wanna be a big man
Just wanna fight with everyone else
I don't wanna be a big man
Just wanna fight with everyone else
Code stolen from Queen Sky
