Oh, that was the point when Wolfwood's almost-composed expression fell, and even as Vash tried to wipe them away, they began falling in earnest.
"Yeah, but what about those of us who hurt when we see you hurtin'?" His voice was a furious whisper, and part of him felt guilty for twisting it around on him like that, but it was the truth. "What if one day, you don't wake up again? I keep tellin' you, it's gonna get you killed, Vash! I can't-..."
He gritted his teeth, the hands on Vash's face moving to clutch, fisted, in the shoulders of his coat so that he didn't hurt him with how hard they wanted to clench.
"I don't know how t'make you understand. How do I make you understand?"
And in the back of his mind, the memory of Luida, standing next to him as they watched Vash scramble to coordinate people after the Nine Lives had attacked inside of the cold sleep chamber, explaining to him so that he understood. Vash was suffering. He'd been suffering for so long. He hurt every damn day of his too-long life, and probably, the possibility of dying because of his blind altruism was, in the end, somehow a part of his plan. He loved people too much and wanted to help too much to end it himself, but the truth of it was easy to see when you knew what you were looking at. Either he didn't care if he was killed, keeping someone else safe, or he went through life actually hoping that the next fight was the one that would take him out.
His expression softened, pained and hurting, yes, but so worried. Full of just as much hurt as it was love, because the thought that Vash was in so much pain broke his heart.
"I don't know how to make you stop hurtin', Vash, and I wish I did."
He guesses he'll have to accept that...
"Yeah, but what about those of us who hurt when we see you hurtin'?" His voice was a furious whisper, and part of him felt guilty for twisting it around on him like that, but it was the truth. "What if one day, you don't wake up again? I keep tellin' you, it's gonna get you killed, Vash! I can't-..."
He gritted his teeth, the hands on Vash's face moving to clutch, fisted, in the shoulders of his coat so that he didn't hurt him with how hard they wanted to clench.
"I don't know how t'make you understand. How do I make you understand?"
And in the back of his mind, the memory of Luida, standing next to him as they watched Vash scramble to coordinate people after the Nine Lives had attacked inside of the cold sleep chamber, explaining to him so that he understood. Vash was suffering. He'd been suffering for so long. He hurt every damn day of his too-long life, and probably, the possibility of dying because of his blind altruism was, in the end, somehow a part of his plan. He loved people too much and wanted to help too much to end it himself, but the truth of it was easy to see when you knew what you were looking at. Either he didn't care if he was killed, keeping someone else safe, or he went through life actually hoping that the next fight was the one that would take him out.
His expression softened, pained and hurting, yes, but so worried. Full of just as much hurt as it was love, because the thought that Vash was in so much pain broke his heart.
"I don't know how to make you stop hurtin', Vash, and I wish I did."