[ Dolph had been so much closer to Livio, the one that had been here, than Vash had. The one HE knew was so much different. Smaller, less himself, still struggling with whatever both he and Wolfwood had been put through. Gone before Vash could even get to know him.
He lifts a hand to take Dolphs' from his face, holding it between the both of his own in his lap. The more Dolph speaks, the less Vash feels worthy to soak up the gentle affection.
He can't bring himself to look at Dolph, despite knowing that's what he deserves. He keeps his gaze focused tightly on the hands in his lap, flesh and bone and metal, fingers clasping tightly.
He kept a castle of ghosts. Rooms left empty and dusty, like if they were disturbed the memories sheltered within would dissolve like the cobwebs that had likely taken their places. It didn't matter now, right? It was all gone. Knives was gone, Meryl and Wolfood he hoped... maybe they had made it out of July before the fight between him and his brother had reached the climax.
Vash tries to pull in a breath of air that he as a Plant doesn't even need but it feels like he's drowning, and it's as he struggle with breathing that his ears start to ring and he makes himself look up at Dolph, the grimace that sets his jaw and shows his teeth one that's anguished and apologetic.
He'd hurt Dolph in all of that, in his relentless pursuit of things he couldn't keep. He'd used people here that he cared about to try and replicate the feeling of warm walls in a desperate selfish attempt to hold on to threads of normalcy he never should have tried to grasp for.
He swallows, shifts the way he's holding onto Dolph's hand to tangle fingers together. It isn't Dolph's failure, it isn't Dolph's job to fill a pitcher with a hole in the bottom. He could apologize again, he could apologize a hundred times, a hundred thousand times and perhaps it wouldn't be enough, because when it comes down to it it's the way he is. ]
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He lifts a hand to take Dolphs' from his face, holding it between the both of his own in his lap. The more Dolph speaks, the less Vash feels worthy to soak up the gentle affection.
He can't bring himself to look at Dolph, despite knowing that's what he deserves. He keeps his gaze focused tightly on the hands in his lap, flesh and bone and metal, fingers clasping tightly.
He kept a castle of ghosts. Rooms left empty and dusty, like if they were disturbed the memories sheltered within would dissolve like the cobwebs that had likely taken their places. It didn't matter now, right? It was all gone. Knives was gone, Meryl and Wolfood he hoped... maybe they had made it out of July before the fight between him and his brother had reached the climax.
Vash tries to pull in a breath of air that he as a Plant doesn't even need but it feels like he's drowning, and it's as he struggle with breathing that his ears start to ring and he makes himself look up at Dolph, the grimace that sets his jaw and shows his teeth one that's anguished and apologetic.
He'd hurt Dolph in all of that, in his relentless pursuit of things he couldn't keep. He'd used people here that he cared about to try and replicate the feeling of warm walls in a desperate selfish attempt to hold on to threads of normalcy he never should have tried to grasp for.
He swallows, shifts the way he's holding onto Dolph's hand to tangle fingers together. It isn't Dolph's failure, it isn't Dolph's job to fill a pitcher with a hole in the bottom. He could apologize again, he could apologize a hundred times, a hundred thousand times and perhaps it wouldn't be enough, because when it comes down to it it's the way he is. ]
You deserved better.
[ It's a whisper, hoarse and rough. ]