Oh, he'd seen Vash take a bullet. He'd felt the moment he took a bunch of blades in the back just so they didn't hit Wolfwood. The man was a rock when he needed to be, good luck getting him to budge if he didn't want to. And yeah, this definitely registered on the Vash Reaction Scale as big. He hoped for a bit that it meant maybe, maybe, despite how unlikely he knew it was, he'd gotten through.
But then, staring into those watery, wide eyes and hearing him stumbling over his own words, sensing the pain and anger he felt that was obviously not directed at Wolfwood, he knew it had...maybe not gone in one ear and out the other, but still missed the mark somewhere. And he sighed, frowning around his own tears, because God, damnit, he just didn't know what to do to get through to him properly!
"No, Vash, listen to me, I know that's not what you said. I don't care about the scale of the damn thing! Do you really think your mistakes make you more of a monster than someone who did it willingly?" He ground his teeth, remembering Augusta, back before he knew who Vash truly was, back when the things he had watched happening had been the most terrifying thing he'd ever seen in his entire life. And how he had fought and struggled on that hill, the sound of his voice as he changed, as Millions Knives held him contorted and screaming from above and forced him to become something horrifying. "I don't believe it, Vash. I've seen it, I've seen what you can do. What they make you do. I didn't understand it back then, I was fuckin' terrified!"
Now, though, when the memory of it made tears roll down his face, it wasn't out of fear. It was because the memory of him fighting so hard, shooting himself just to save others, hurt so much, because he understood, now. He understood.
"You're not a monster, Vash. I stood back and watched them use you, because I was too afraid to move. I didn't know you, I didn't know how much pain it was puttin' you through, but I do, now. Maybe not...maybe not personally. The amount of pain I see in you terrifies me, Vash, an' sometimes I don't know how you do it. But...there's nothin' you can say that will make me believe that the man I saw, screamin' an' helpless while his brother tried t'use him as a weapon to murder even more people, deserves to blame himself for what they did to him.
I know it makes you feel better to help people, I do, and so help me, it's one of the things about you that actually gives me an ounce'a fuckin' hope. But your happiness matters just as much as theirs does, Vash! They've been abusing you, an' I'm not gonna blame you for their actions. You have nothing to make up for. Help people because you want to help them. Not because you feel the need to hurt yourself. Not because you think they matter more than you do. You. Matter, Vash."
He flexed his jaw around the tears that he'd tried not to give into, a little angry with himself for them. But then his eyes narrowed a little, and he sat his jaw as a tiny thought occurred to him.
"An' don't tell me it's not the same, 'cause that happened to the man I knew back home. You're even softer than he was-...is." Because he didn't want to consider what might have happened to him since Wolfwood had...left. And using the past tense made his anxious heart hurt. "He will actually put a bullet in someone if it means they can't attack again, even if he still refuses to make 'em lethal. Have you ever actually shot a person with that thing? No, not the important part, shuttup. My point is, even with your differences, you're still the same man. And I know you would have fought just as hard as he did. You would never have hurt those people on your own, Vash. Ever."
Ok, then promise to stop hurting yourself, Needle-Noggin!
But then, staring into those watery, wide eyes and hearing him stumbling over his own words, sensing the pain and anger he felt that was obviously not directed at Wolfwood, he knew it had...maybe not gone in one ear and out the other, but still missed the mark somewhere. And he sighed, frowning around his own tears, because God, damnit, he just didn't know what to do to get through to him properly!
"No, Vash, listen to me, I know that's not what you said. I don't care about the scale of the damn thing! Do you really think your mistakes make you more of a monster than someone who did it willingly?" He ground his teeth, remembering Augusta, back before he knew who Vash truly was, back when the things he had watched happening had been the most terrifying thing he'd ever seen in his entire life. And how he had fought and struggled on that hill, the sound of his voice as he changed, as Millions Knives held him contorted and screaming from above and forced him to become something horrifying. "I don't believe it, Vash. I've seen it, I've seen what you can do. What they make you do. I didn't understand it back then, I was fuckin' terrified!"
Now, though, when the memory of it made tears roll down his face, it wasn't out of fear. It was because the memory of him fighting so hard, shooting himself just to save others, hurt so much, because he understood, now. He understood.
"You're not a monster, Vash. I stood back and watched them use you, because I was too afraid to move. I didn't know you, I didn't know how much pain it was puttin' you through, but I do, now. Maybe not...maybe not personally. The amount of pain I see in you terrifies me, Vash, an' sometimes I don't know how you do it. But...there's nothin' you can say that will make me believe that the man I saw, screamin' an' helpless while his brother tried t'use him as a weapon to murder even more people, deserves to blame himself for what they did to him.
I know it makes you feel better to help people, I do, and so help me, it's one of the things about you that actually gives me an ounce'a fuckin' hope. But your happiness matters just as much as theirs does, Vash! They've been abusing you, an' I'm not gonna blame you for their actions. You have nothing to make up for. Help people because you want to help them. Not because you feel the need to hurt yourself. Not because you think they matter more than you do. You. Matter, Vash."
He flexed his jaw around the tears that he'd tried not to give into, a little angry with himself for them. But then his eyes narrowed a little, and he sat his jaw as a tiny thought occurred to him.
"An' don't tell me it's not the same, 'cause that happened to the man I knew back home. You're even softer than he was-...is." Because he didn't want to consider what might have happened to him since Wolfwood had...left. And using the past tense made his anxious heart hurt. "He will actually put a bullet in someone if it means they can't attack again, even if he still refuses to make 'em lethal. Have you ever actually shot a person with that thing? No, not the important part, shuttup. My point is, even with your differences, you're still the same man. And I know you would have fought just as hard as he did. You would never have hurt those people on your own, Vash. Ever."