[Mm, yeah, no. No. That look told him that the hair definitely wasn't a good thing, and he silently cursed himself in the back of his mind. Fuck. Sticking his foot so far into his mouth he was gnawing on his own damn knee, at this point. It made him glance away, shame on his face as he chewed on the end of his cigar in frustration, missing the moment the offended shock faded.
It also meant that when the hit came, he was unprepared, and it immediately sent him stumbling back, his cigar landing on the ground nearby and his sunglasses very nearly joining it when his hands shot up to press up against his mouth in shock. He was left legitimately reeling for a few good seconds, pulling his hand away to see the blood on his fingers as he worried at the split in his lip with his tongue. Shit. Vash clocked him good on that one. That didn't happen often. Especially not the later they'd known each other. And had it been any other moment in the entire time he'd known him, Wolfwood might have retaliated. A part of him even wanted to. They'd gotten into enough actual fights with each other over the years that it normally wouldn't have even registered as out of the ordinary. Hell, a darker part of his soul might have even kind of enjoyed it.
But this wasn't one of those times, and things are definitely not the same as they used to be. Even as he gave himself a moment to recover from the blow, even as he kept his face turned down and his body half turned away, he simply listened. Took in every single word, unconsciously biting at the split in his lip when those words hit him in a completely different way, when the crack in his voice made him feel physically ill.
When he had gone silent, Nicholas remained quiet as well as he tried to process what he'd said, for long enough that he began to feel uncomfortable. He couldn't change what had happened. He couldn't take back the things he'd done, and saying the things that initially crossed his mind were probably only going to make things worse. Vash deserved a response. He deserved an apology that would wouldn't make him hurt worse. Wolfwood...didn't know that he could give him one.
Finally, he shook his head, his brow furrowing both at something he'd said and at the sight of the blood on his hands suddenly spreading, diluting, dripping off his fingers to the ground before he realized there were tears mixing with it. Not that it did that much good; without the serum, his body had been healing less and less quickly over the past couple of years. And he'd refused to even look for more of the shit, not after what he'd done the last time. It wasn't worth risking even one. His lip was making a pretty nice little stain on the white of his shirt collar and the cuffs of his sleeves, dripping steadily down to the ground.]
'S not what I meant, Vash. I know you didn't want me gone. [No matter how much better for him it probably would have been if they'd never even met. But he knew that was the literal worst thing he could have said at that moment, so he held his tongue.] I just...I knew you'd want to come with me. I knew...convincin' you not to would take an act of God, and...
[And what, Nick? What brilliant idea did you have in your head that made you think it could end any other way than it did? It was the million-fucking-double-dollar question, wasn't it? What could he even say to the man that wouldn't dig the knife in even deeper than he already had? That he'd had every expectation of meeting his end when he faced the rest of the Eye? That he hadn't wanted to make Vash go through that? He had wanted the last thing he did for the man to be a mercy, taking the choice out of his hands so that he didn't have to watch someone he cared about be murdered, giving him the chance to do what he needed to without having those memories in his head. He knew the truth would just make him angrier, and Wolfwood was torn between wanting to keep from pushing him any harder than he already had, knowing how strongly he felt and how much he cared even if he'd never said it, and almost needing to push, to egg him on until Vash finally snapped and hated him as much as he deserved. The way he'd tried to do with the other Vash a couple days ago, when Nico had gone missing and they'd both spiraled into their own worst thoughts.
The thought of actually pushing him that far, now, though, hurt. It was what he deserved, it would have been so much better for Vash if he didn't care, if he hated Wolfwood as much as he knew he should. But now that he was here, now that the thought of seeing him again wasn't something he'd told himself was an impossibility and the thought that Vash hating him would mean he wasn't somewhere out there mourning his death was a moot point, the thought of pushing him away terrified him.
His face crumpled, a sob choking out of his chest before he even knew it was happening, and still, he couldn't look at him.]
You-...you said...you said a week? [It was the easiest thing to tackle, and probably the least important, but it was what his brain latched onto as he struggled with his words.] Vash...that...December was over two years ago for me. I've been stuck here-...wherever...I don't even know anymore...for over two years, now. Every fuckin' day, I've just...been...tellin' myself...it would've been better if you didn't care. I knew you were out there, somewhere, hurtin', an' I know that's my fault. I can't...nothing I do will ever make up for that!
[He glanced in his direction out of the corner of his eyes, his head still hanging low between his shoulders so that his eyes could only go as high as the straps on the tops of his boots, and mindlessly tried to wipe the blood off of his hands. It just smeared it further, and he grimaced. Fuckin' poetic ass bullshit.]
Heh. Freinds. Fuckin'...friends. Vash, you were legitimately the only fuckin' person who gave a damn about me in fuckin' years. Monsters like me don't get to have friends. Look at what I did with the only one I had. [He threw his hands up weakly, letting them fall back to his sides and not even caring that he was getting blood on his trousers. They were black, anyway. It wouldn't be the first, nor the last, blood stain that was hidden in the darkness of the fabric.] If it makes you feel better t'hit me, I won't stop ya. I've given you enough grief over the years, you're entitled to a few good licks, that's for damn sure.
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It also meant that when the hit came, he was unprepared, and it immediately sent him stumbling back, his cigar landing on the ground nearby and his sunglasses very nearly joining it when his hands shot up to press up against his mouth in shock. He was left legitimately reeling for a few good seconds, pulling his hand away to see the blood on his fingers as he worried at the split in his lip with his tongue. Shit. Vash clocked him good on that one. That didn't happen often. Especially not the later they'd known each other. And had it been any other moment in the entire time he'd known him, Wolfwood might have retaliated. A part of him even wanted to. They'd gotten into enough actual fights with each other over the years that it normally wouldn't have even registered as out of the ordinary. Hell, a darker part of his soul might have even kind of enjoyed it.
But this wasn't one of those times, and things are definitely not the same as they used to be. Even as he gave himself a moment to recover from the blow, even as he kept his face turned down and his body half turned away, he simply listened. Took in every single word, unconsciously biting at the split in his lip when those words hit him in a completely different way, when the crack in his voice made him feel physically ill.
When he had gone silent, Nicholas remained quiet as well as he tried to process what he'd said, for long enough that he began to feel uncomfortable. He couldn't change what had happened. He couldn't take back the things he'd done, and saying the things that initially crossed his mind were probably only going to make things worse. Vash deserved a response. He deserved an apology that would wouldn't make him hurt worse. Wolfwood...didn't know that he could give him one.
Finally, he shook his head, his brow furrowing both at something he'd said and at the sight of the blood on his hands suddenly spreading, diluting, dripping off his fingers to the ground before he realized there were tears mixing with it. Not that it did that much good; without the serum, his body had been healing less and less quickly over the past couple of years. And he'd refused to even look for more of the shit, not after what he'd done the last time. It wasn't worth risking even one. His lip was making a pretty nice little stain on the white of his shirt collar and the cuffs of his sleeves, dripping steadily down to the ground.]
'S not what I meant, Vash. I know you didn't want me gone. [No matter how much better for him it probably would have been if they'd never even met. But he knew that was the literal worst thing he could have said at that moment, so he held his tongue.] I just...I knew you'd want to come with me. I knew...convincin' you not to would take an act of God, and...
[And what, Nick? What brilliant idea did you have in your head that made you think it could end any other way than it did? It was the million-fucking-double-dollar question, wasn't it? What could he even say to the man that wouldn't dig the knife in even deeper than he already had? That he'd had every expectation of meeting his end when he faced the rest of the Eye? That he hadn't wanted to make Vash go through that? He had wanted the last thing he did for the man to be a mercy, taking the choice out of his hands so that he didn't have to watch someone he cared about be murdered, giving him the chance to do what he needed to without having those memories in his head. He knew the truth would just make him angrier, and Wolfwood was torn between wanting to keep from pushing him any harder than he already had, knowing how strongly he felt and how much he cared even if he'd never said it, and almost needing to push, to egg him on until Vash finally snapped and hated him as much as he deserved. The way he'd tried to do with the other Vash a couple days ago, when Nico had gone missing and they'd both spiraled into their own worst thoughts.
The thought of actually pushing him that far, now, though, hurt. It was what he deserved, it would have been so much better for Vash if he didn't care, if he hated Wolfwood as much as he knew he should. But now that he was here, now that the thought of seeing him again wasn't something he'd told himself was an impossibility and the thought that Vash hating him would mean he wasn't somewhere out there mourning his death was a moot point, the thought of pushing him away terrified him.
His face crumpled, a sob choking out of his chest before he even knew it was happening, and still, he couldn't look at him.]
You-...you said...you said a week? [It was the easiest thing to tackle, and probably the least important, but it was what his brain latched onto as he struggled with his words.] Vash...that...December was over two years ago for me. I've been stuck here-...wherever...I don't even know anymore...for over two years, now. Every fuckin' day, I've just...been...tellin' myself...it would've been better if you didn't care. I knew you were out there, somewhere, hurtin', an' I know that's my fault. I can't...nothing I do will ever make up for that!
[He glanced in his direction out of the corner of his eyes, his head still hanging low between his shoulders so that his eyes could only go as high as the straps on the tops of his boots, and mindlessly tried to wipe the blood off of his hands. It just smeared it further, and he grimaced. Fuckin' poetic ass bullshit.]
Heh. Freinds. Fuckin'...friends. Vash, you were legitimately the only fuckin' person who gave a damn about me in fuckin' years. Monsters like me don't get to have friends. Look at what I did with the only one I had. [He threw his hands up weakly, letting them fall back to his sides and not even caring that he was getting blood on his trousers. They were black, anyway. It wouldn't be the first, nor the last, blood stain that was hidden in the darkness of the fabric.] If it makes you feel better t'hit me, I won't stop ya. I've given you enough grief over the years, you're entitled to a few good licks, that's for damn sure.