Zavien
The exhaustion of Kai's response drags down some of his angry outburst, but he can still feel it beneath the surface, simmering and reaching a heat that's stronger than the day they first argued. This is born of more than heightened emotions and initial pain, but a deep-seated hurt of needing to hear that Kai is still the person he thinks he is - and being denied that at every turn. It's a frustration at trying to reconcile what's being said with what he thought he knew - of what he still wants to believe deep down.
"I know why you said what you did, but I did say that I wanted to avoid it, that I wanted you to be the one to tell him. I might not have said it well, but I did," he reasons. And yet Kai had been too worked up to hear him or care. Zavien understands being hotheaded and hardheaded and bullheaded and all the manner of indecipherably illogical reactions, but why can't Kai seem to get that understanding doesn't make it hurt any less?
He falls silent under Kai's gaze, the fire of his anger banking when he meets his eyes, reminded again of the wound he's inflicted. And yet, Zavien can't argue that Kai is still here, even if he flips his words back on him, casting shade like he has a vendetta against sunlight. He doesn't argue how it took two people to screw things up, or how it hadn't been their relationship he'd been referring to. It's a vicious cycle with no relief, an ongoing battle that's fought with questions rather than answers, ones that he can't always answer because how can he trust someone if not by their actions? Kai didn't tell Lena, he didn't withhold help when it mattered, he's here, trying to be understood. Other than the words he'd said in the heat of the moment, Kai hasn't given him a reason to believe he's actually a bad person.
"You're right."
The words land on Kai's back where he's turned away, where he can't see the slow decompression of the tension he holds. "I just - " It's hard to explain why seeing their interaction had felt like betrayal, but he tries, nonetheless. "It hurt, Kai. You've always been like a kid brother, someone I didn't think would ever say something like that. And now..." he shakes his head, still trying to reconcile the harmless, impulsive kid he used to know with the man before him, ready to protect those he cares about. He's always seen a lot of himself in Kai - maybe too much.
His head hangs, his voice quiet as he releases any lingering animosities. "I guess we're just two idiots with big mouths and too much to lose," he lets out a sigh that's heavier than the weight of the world, containing all the grief and unspoken frustrations, "and I'm done losing people."
"I know why you said what you did, but I did say that I wanted to avoid it, that I wanted you to be the one to tell him. I might not have said it well, but I did," he reasons. And yet Kai had been too worked up to hear him or care. Zavien understands being hotheaded and hardheaded and bullheaded and all the manner of indecipherably illogical reactions, but why can't Kai seem to get that understanding doesn't make it hurt any less?
He falls silent under Kai's gaze, the fire of his anger banking when he meets his eyes, reminded again of the wound he's inflicted. And yet, Zavien can't argue that Kai is still here, even if he flips his words back on him, casting shade like he has a vendetta against sunlight. He doesn't argue how it took two people to screw things up, or how it hadn't been their relationship he'd been referring to. It's a vicious cycle with no relief, an ongoing battle that's fought with questions rather than answers, ones that he can't always answer because how can he trust someone if not by their actions? Kai didn't tell Lena, he didn't withhold help when it mattered, he's here, trying to be understood. Other than the words he'd said in the heat of the moment, Kai hasn't given him a reason to believe he's actually a bad person.
"You're right."
The words land on Kai's back where he's turned away, where he can't see the slow decompression of the tension he holds. "I just - " It's hard to explain why seeing their interaction had felt like betrayal, but he tries, nonetheless. "It hurt, Kai. You've always been like a kid brother, someone I didn't think would ever say something like that. And now..." he shakes his head, still trying to reconcile the harmless, impulsive kid he used to know with the man before him, ready to protect those he cares about. He's always seen a lot of himself in Kai - maybe too much.
His head hangs, his voice quiet as he releases any lingering animosities. "I guess we're just two idiots with big mouths and too much to lose," he lets out a sigh that's heavier than the weight of the world, containing all the grief and unspoken frustrations, "and I'm done losing people."
We wear our scars as proof
that we are still alive.
