He honestly wasn't sure what he had expected. The words that Vash finally spoke were the exact opposite of what Wolfwood had wanted to hear out of him, but that was also why he should have known that Vash wouldn't say the things he'd hoped he would. It was enough to knock the wind out of his sails, no matter how much he wanted to argue, because hearing him say it only emboldened the soft little voice in his head that sounded just like him. He's right. It's not your fault, Wolfwood. Part of him wished he could make it stay quiet, but the rest of him knew it had rooted itself deep, without his consent, the same way everything else about Vash the Stampede had taken hold in his life, and hoped it never went away.
It didn't make it any easier though, listening to him being so reasonable, making so much damn sense. He felt like an asshole, chided like a child in the softest way possible. It was times like this when Vash's true age became more obvious, the wisdom he had after so much experience, even if it was buried under the demons that dogged his every step and left him running ragged. Made him want to tuck himself inside of that coat he wore that was too large for his frame, hide himself against his side where it was safe. Where, against all odds and better judgment, someone actually cared about him.
He fell into his own long silence as they walked, and he knew he was pouting, even if he would never admit to it. It was a while of walking, wiping his sleeve against his face to hide the tears, before he finally spoke up again, as softly muttered as the sound of their feet shuffling through the sand.
"Look...it's just...all I know how to do, sometimes. I'm just trying to be a realist, Blondie. If I don't get my hopes up, it won't hurt when it all comes crashing down on my head..."
...TBH, that would just make him panic EVEN MORE. l o l oh NO.
It didn't make it any easier though, listening to him being so reasonable, making so much damn sense. He felt like an asshole, chided like a child in the softest way possible. It was times like this when Vash's true age became more obvious, the wisdom he had after so much experience, even if it was buried under the demons that dogged his every step and left him running ragged. Made him want to tuck himself inside of that coat he wore that was too large for his frame, hide himself against his side where it was safe. Where, against all odds and better judgment, someone actually cared about him.
He fell into his own long silence as they walked, and he knew he was pouting, even if he would never admit to it. It was a while of walking, wiping his sleeve against his face to hide the tears, before he finally spoke up again, as softly muttered as the sound of their feet shuffling through the sand.
"Look...it's just...all I know how to do, sometimes. I'm just trying to be a realist, Blondie. If I don't get my hopes up, it won't hurt when it all comes crashing down on my head..."