This wasn't the first time he had witnessed Wolfwood crying. This Wolfwood. It wasn't even the gut-wrenching, helpless cry of the first time when he'd asked to hold him. But, for some reason, it was this time that Vash choked up, himself, wishing, just for a moment, for the release of tears, himself. Not for his own grief and fear and hurt. But for the pain he was witnessing, that he could not take away, that nobody could. Choices made in the past that cannot be undone. Even with the second chance that this Wolfwood had been granted, even with knowing he can try to make it up to the man he hurt in the first place, the unbearable weight of having made those choices in the first place could not be lifted.

Oh, how he understood that.

His arms just tightened a little, holdin and steadying him, right hand fingers cupping the back of his head, and he turned his face to press a soft kiss into the hairline at Wolfwood's temple, soothing.

"I understand. I accept that, and I'm here."

He could not tell him he had done nothing wrong. He could not tell him that it was all right. He could not even, with certainty, tell him it would be all right, though at least that one he had some hope for. So he said what he could, as true.