I need your hand but I don't want to burn it
At the time, cruelty had seemed like the nearest thing to kindness Vesper had left to offer. If he chose the right words and laid them against the cleanest seams, he thought he could cut himself free without tearing through more of Colt than necessary, leaving one sharp wound that might close instead of allowing a hundred smaller ones to keep opening between them. The year since has made the arrogance of that idea impossible to ignore. He’d badly misjudged how deeply they’d grown into one another, and in trying to carve himself out with a steady hand, he’d only left pieces of them both behind.
Her explanation draws a long breath from him. One corner of his mouth twists, wry despite the complete absence of humour in his voice. "Well, that is normally how breakups go." His thumb shifts once against the side of her hand. "One person makes the decision for both of ’em." As she continues, though, his brow rises before drawing faintly inward. The point he’d meant to make has landed wrong, or perhaps he simply hasn’t been brave enough to state it plainly. He swallows and looks down, his gaze caught among the grass as though the weight of his failure has hooked there and dragged it from her face. "I never thought you wouldn’t try to pay it," he says quietly. "I decided that I couldn’t."
Her thoughts had never been meant for him. Whatever distance she might have learned to build between the first raw flare of fear and the choices she made afterward, Vesper would still have been standing inside the storm before she’d had the chance to understand its direction. Maybe another man could have held all of it without letting the doubts sink hooks beneath his skin, could have remembered that thoughts were only weather and not promises, but he hadn’t been strong enough for that. Or good enough. In the end, the distinction hardly matters.
The gradual release of tension from her body knots his stomach rather than easing it, some part of him still expecting that when their hands finally separate, they’ll both come away blistered. Then her admission reaches him without any of the usual armour around it, her voice only narrowly arriving before the same truth blooms in her mind. A small breath of laughter leaves him, hesitant and rough at the edges. Vesper nods, his eyes remaining on their joined hands. "I did too." The words settle heavily between them, frightening in their simplicity. He swallows before forcing himself to keep going, because there’s little purpose in preserving scraps of pride after everything else he’s already placed in her hands.
"For what it’s worth, the reason I came up north durin' LongNight was to make sure you were okay." His fingers tighten faintly around hers before easing again. The next breath carries a thread of guilt through it, and his mouth pulls to one side as he stares out across the dark meadow. "And apologize, I guess." His jaw shifts. "For not bein' able to do more against whatever that thing was." That was twice now he'd missed when she'd called to him, after all.
Her explanation draws a long breath from him. One corner of his mouth twists, wry despite the complete absence of humour in his voice. "Well, that is normally how breakups go." His thumb shifts once against the side of her hand. "One person makes the decision for both of ’em." As she continues, though, his brow rises before drawing faintly inward. The point he’d meant to make has landed wrong, or perhaps he simply hasn’t been brave enough to state it plainly. He swallows and looks down, his gaze caught among the grass as though the weight of his failure has hooked there and dragged it from her face. "I never thought you wouldn’t try to pay it," he says quietly. "I decided that I couldn’t."
Her thoughts had never been meant for him. Whatever distance she might have learned to build between the first raw flare of fear and the choices she made afterward, Vesper would still have been standing inside the storm before she’d had the chance to understand its direction. Maybe another man could have held all of it without letting the doubts sink hooks beneath his skin, could have remembered that thoughts were only weather and not promises, but he hadn’t been strong enough for that. Or good enough. In the end, the distinction hardly matters.
The gradual release of tension from her body knots his stomach rather than easing it, some part of him still expecting that when their hands finally separate, they’ll both come away blistered. Then her admission reaches him without any of the usual armour around it, her voice only narrowly arriving before the same truth blooms in her mind. A small breath of laughter leaves him, hesitant and rough at the edges. Vesper nods, his eyes remaining on their joined hands. "I did too." The words settle heavily between them, frightening in their simplicity. He swallows before forcing himself to keep going, because there’s little purpose in preserving scraps of pride after everything else he’s already placed in her hands.
"For what it’s worth, the reason I came up north durin' LongNight was to make sure you were okay." His fingers tighten faintly around hers before easing again. The next breath carries a thread of guilt through it, and his mouth pulls to one side as he stares out across the dark meadow. "And apologize, I guess." His jaw shifts. "For not bein' able to do more against whatever that thing was." That was twice now he'd missed when she'd called to him, after all.
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.
