I need your hand but I don't want to burn it
"Guilty," Vesper concedes, the smirk already pulling warmer at the corners as he looks at Colt. For a moment, he forgets the distance he’d so carefully hammered into place between them. Affection slips through before he can stop it, easy and familiar in the way it softens his eyes, until the full weight of what he’s just admitted begins to settle over her and reminds him precisely why he’d kept this buried. His smile fades alongside hers, though he doesn’t look away.
The fact that she hasn’t punched him yet seems promising, but Vesper knows better than to mistake shock for forgiveness. She hasn’t reached the ugliest corners of it yet, hasn’t had time to understand how little of herself had ever been private when he was near, and he can feel her thoughts multiplying as the realization spreads. Each attempt to force them quiet only gives them another hard surface to ricochet from, questions colliding with embarrassment and fear until the noise crowds against him from every direction. The corners of his eyes tighten with the effort of holding steady beneath it, an exertion he no longer has any reason to disguise.
"It’s like hearin' another language," he explains, his voice kept low while the peppermint stem turns between his fingers. "If I told you right now to block out everythin' I was sayin', you probably could. But it’d take a hell of a lot of effort, and you’d likely have to block out nearly everythin' else along with it." One shoulder lifts in a small, helpless shrug. It isn’t the answer she wants, and it isn’t one he’s ever particularly liked giving himself. "I can’t hear anythin’ when I’m shifted, though." That offers a boundary, however impractical, but it does nothing for the rest of what’s rising behind her question. Vesper sighs softly and glances toward her over one shoulder, something sad briefly darkening the blue of his eyes before he looks down again. He plucks one of the leaves from the peppermint bark and rolls it between his thumb and forefinger, buying himself another second before he answers what she hasn’t managed to ask aloud.
"A good deal more than I know you’d like." His tongue passes across his teeth as he considers how to explain something that has never sat neatly inside language. There’s no version of it that doesn’t sound like an accusation, even when Colt has done nothing except think in the privacy she had every right to believe was hers. "I know it ain’t fair," he begins, stealing another glance toward her before returning his attention to the leaf. "And I know you didn’t do anythin' wrong." The words pull a faint wince across his face anyway, because fairness has never made hearing something hurt less.
"But I could hear it, loud and clear, every time you beat yourself up for likin' me. For likin' me more than you wanted to, or thought you should. For thinkin' maybe you could love me." He lets out a breath through his nose, his shoulders shifting with an attempt at nonchalance too thin to fool either of them. "Then there were all the doubts. What I was really after, whether any of it meant the same thing to me, all the shit I’d never live up to."
None of it had been unreasonable. That had almost made it worse. Her fears hadn’t been petty things he could dismiss, but old wounds recognizing familiar shapes and warning her not to put her hand near the blade again. Vesper had understood every one of them, and still they’d worked their way beneath his skin, carried there day after day by an ability that offered him no distance from the ugliest possibilities her mind could imagine. "The longer it went on, it didn’t matter that you were tryin' to play it cool and slow. Not when I could hear how often you wanted more from me, right alongside every reason you thought wantin' it—me—was a mistake." He flicks the leaf away, watching it vanish into the grass while the bare stem remains trapped between his fingers.
"It hurts, hearin' that over and over again." His voice has gone quieter, stripped of the dry ease he’d tried to keep around the confession. "But like I said, it wasn’t your fault. You weren’t doin' anythin’ wrong." Vesper finally turns his head enough to look at her properly, though the vulnerability in his expression makes the movement seem almost cautious. "So it felt like the only thing I could do was make you hate me." His jaw tightens around the admission. "Figured if I made it ugly enough, you’d move on. Forget about me. And since I couldn’t tell you the truth, that seemed like the only thing to do." The bitterness that follows twists his mouth, not quite a smile and too exhausted to become anger. "Not that the truth really changes anythin'."
Knowing the reason doesn’t unmake what he did in the Grounds, nor does it turn the invasion into anything gentler. If anything, the truth only gives every wound between them a deeper root. Her fears had been hers to wrestle with, private and passing things that might have withered if left untouched, but Vesper had heard each one as though it had been spoken directly into his ear until they’d begun to fester in him. By the time the rot had settled, he’d convinced himself the only mercy left was to cut everything away.
The fact that she hasn’t punched him yet seems promising, but Vesper knows better than to mistake shock for forgiveness. She hasn’t reached the ugliest corners of it yet, hasn’t had time to understand how little of herself had ever been private when he was near, and he can feel her thoughts multiplying as the realization spreads. Each attempt to force them quiet only gives them another hard surface to ricochet from, questions colliding with embarrassment and fear until the noise crowds against him from every direction. The corners of his eyes tighten with the effort of holding steady beneath it, an exertion he no longer has any reason to disguise.
"It’s like hearin' another language," he explains, his voice kept low while the peppermint stem turns between his fingers. "If I told you right now to block out everythin' I was sayin', you probably could. But it’d take a hell of a lot of effort, and you’d likely have to block out nearly everythin' else along with it." One shoulder lifts in a small, helpless shrug. It isn’t the answer she wants, and it isn’t one he’s ever particularly liked giving himself. "I can’t hear anythin’ when I’m shifted, though." That offers a boundary, however impractical, but it does nothing for the rest of what’s rising behind her question. Vesper sighs softly and glances toward her over one shoulder, something sad briefly darkening the blue of his eyes before he looks down again. He plucks one of the leaves from the peppermint bark and rolls it between his thumb and forefinger, buying himself another second before he answers what she hasn’t managed to ask aloud.
"A good deal more than I know you’d like." His tongue passes across his teeth as he considers how to explain something that has never sat neatly inside language. There’s no version of it that doesn’t sound like an accusation, even when Colt has done nothing except think in the privacy she had every right to believe was hers. "I know it ain’t fair," he begins, stealing another glance toward her before returning his attention to the leaf. "And I know you didn’t do anythin' wrong." The words pull a faint wince across his face anyway, because fairness has never made hearing something hurt less.
"But I could hear it, loud and clear, every time you beat yourself up for likin' me. For likin' me more than you wanted to, or thought you should. For thinkin' maybe you could love me." He lets out a breath through his nose, his shoulders shifting with an attempt at nonchalance too thin to fool either of them. "Then there were all the doubts. What I was really after, whether any of it meant the same thing to me, all the shit I’d never live up to."
None of it had been unreasonable. That had almost made it worse. Her fears hadn’t been petty things he could dismiss, but old wounds recognizing familiar shapes and warning her not to put her hand near the blade again. Vesper had understood every one of them, and still they’d worked their way beneath his skin, carried there day after day by an ability that offered him no distance from the ugliest possibilities her mind could imagine. "The longer it went on, it didn’t matter that you were tryin' to play it cool and slow. Not when I could hear how often you wanted more from me, right alongside every reason you thought wantin' it—me—was a mistake." He flicks the leaf away, watching it vanish into the grass while the bare stem remains trapped between his fingers.
"It hurts, hearin' that over and over again." His voice has gone quieter, stripped of the dry ease he’d tried to keep around the confession. "But like I said, it wasn’t your fault. You weren’t doin' anythin’ wrong." Vesper finally turns his head enough to look at her properly, though the vulnerability in his expression makes the movement seem almost cautious. "So it felt like the only thing I could do was make you hate me." His jaw tightens around the admission. "Figured if I made it ugly enough, you’d move on. Forget about me. And since I couldn’t tell you the truth, that seemed like the only thing to do." The bitterness that follows twists his mouth, not quite a smile and too exhausted to become anger. "Not that the truth really changes anythin'."
Knowing the reason doesn’t unmake what he did in the Grounds, nor does it turn the invasion into anything gentler. If anything, the truth only gives every wound between them a deeper root. Her fears had been hers to wrestle with, private and passing things that might have withered if left untouched, but Vesper had heard each one as though it had been spoken directly into his ear until they’d begun to fester in him. By the time the rot had settled, he’d convinced himself the only mercy left was to cut everything away.
No I don't deserve it, I don't deserve it
☆ has a pale star tattoo beneath his left eye, and freckle-sized constellations move across his skin
☽ hair changes from bleached blonde to brown
☆ telepathic: Sunlit Shadows | The user can read the surface thoughts and emotions of those within a 60ft radius. Control is excellent. Note: "Thoughts and emotions" include anything written in a character's narration in a post.
☽ hair changes from bleached blonde to brown
☆ telepathic: Sunlit Shadows | The user can read the surface thoughts and emotions of those within a 60ft radius. Control is excellent. Note: "Thoughts and emotions" include anything written in a character's narration in a post.
