The explanation about phones got a bewildered look before he just accepted it and nodded with a small "Huh" of confirmation. That was certainly the least of his worries and a simple enough answer that he didn't put any more thought into it as they shuffled about the room and got settled. At the very least, it wasn't important enough to hold his attention more than that, especially not when Blondie was talking about going out and looking for the kid and leaving them alone, which almost made that anxiety come roaring back, before he watched him take off his coat and put it over the chair, and that all on its own was enough to make something in his chest clench in relief.
He could have almost smiled, before that little chuckle came, and then Vash calling him out on wanting to find the other two made him stop short and blink, and suddenly he was turning bright red and sputtering, surprised and confused as it dawned on him that he had actually already been planning on doing just that. He stammered for a second, awkward and looking between them, his mouth moving without any actual words forming, before he swallowed around the lump in his throat and his eyes flittered around the room in search of something safe to look at.
"I just-..." Worry. Want them to be safe. Made a promise in December. How could he even begin to understand why the need to...help? Find them, make sure they were ok? Had just come naturally, let alone explain it in a way that didn't sound crazy? "I just wanna help. If...if he told Needle-Noggin about what things are gonna be like for the next couple of months, then...that means he's alone now, too, right? So...that makes two of 'em. Even more reason to tell 'em how to find Rem with the rest of you, right?"
And unfortunately, all of that, the realization of what he was doing, thinking about those other men out there, hurting and alone and hiding while the dust settled, just brought the guilt he'd been doing his best to keep shoved down in the back of his head back to the surface. The horror he'd felt when reality had hit him at that grave in December. He watched Blondie walk out the door, nodding gently. He did not miss the way his voice shook, and it only made the fact that he was leaving that much more nerve-wrecking, even if he knew he planned on coming back.
"Yeah, 'kay...be careful out there..." His voice was soft, but he simply gave a small wave, and waited until he was down the hall and had disappeared down the stairs before shutting the door almost fully, leaving it closed enough that there wasn't a crack to peer through, but was still obviously ajar.
And then Vash's voice mumbled out behind him, and it was obvious just from the sound of it that he was uncomfortable, and that just made the guilt even worse.
He tried his best to compose himself, keeping a hand on the doorknob as he tried to think of what to say, where to even start, but there was so much, and suddenly all of the good news about finding their mother again, the kids being found safe, a home being set up for them, seemed like another world to him. Because all he could see was that body laid so carefully in the ground, tended to and cared for and loved, and all he could think about was the sound of Vash sitting beside him and crying his heart out as Wolfwood lost consciousness.
Well. That was probably as good a place to start as any, right? At the very least, it was the entire reason they were in this shitty place to begin with, wasn't it? It wasn't the only thing he had to apologize for, but it was the the first.
He turned, looked at him standing there, looking as awkward as he'd sounded, and looked away, doing his best not to break down while he fidgeted, his hands making aborted little jerks in the air like he wanted to reach out but was afraid to. It would be alright, wouldn't it? His feathers were hidden for now, so he wouldn't hurt him if he touched him again, surely, but he also didn't want to rush him, especially not after what had happened last time, not when they both seemed to be hovering on a razor's edge for something to happen and he knew the feathers had a tendency to show themselves when he was distressed. Not after the last time, when he'd tried to tear himself apart. And that memory just made the guilt even worse, and he almost lost control of his own emotions.
"I'm-...Vash, I'm sorry. I didn't say it to you properly before, and I should've, it's the least you deserved." Fuck. And there he went, his face screwing itself into a grimace even as he lost the fight against holding back his tears. "I was an idiot, I spent so much time hatin' myself, I didn't...I couldn't...I didn't stop to think about...about how much I was hurtin' you. I'm sorry." He pawed at his eyes furiously, but it didn't stop the way his voice hiccupped in his chest when he tried to speak again. "I don't-...I don't know...I don't know how t'make it up to you, or if I even can. I..."
He hiccupped again, shaking his head, and he was trying so, so hard to keep from breaking down sobbing again, the way he had by that graveside. Without Blondie there, trying to reassure him, to give him something other than his own nihilistic doom and gloom to latch onto, he was back to just knowing that he'd made his own bed and he was going to have to lie in it and there was probably nothing he could do to change that.
It certainly didn't help, knowing that he'd never gotten a chance to tell Vash where they'd been headed when they'd found him. Why they were in December that day.
"I made Blondie go back to the orphanage with me. I was so worried, when all of this weird shit started and Nico - his Wolfwood, I mean - was suddenly gone-...I was afraid...I was afraid he'd...that he'd taken my place out there. I...I couldn't just leave 'im out there...I had to know, I was so sure some other man had died in my place, and-..."
He needed to sit down, or at the very least not be standing there in the middle of the room. It left him feeling exposed, and he almost leaned back against the door before he realized it was supposed to be left unlatched and startled himself, reaching back to make sure he hadn't knocked it closed. His thoughts were scattered enough as it was, but he had his senses enough that, once he knew it was still ajar, he let himself back up to the little chair nearby and simply sank down into it, his eyes staring at the barely-closed door.
"I thought...I thought it'd be easy, right? I've made enough bodies, why-...why should seein' that one be any different? I'm a fuckin' idiot! I dug up that man's grave, and it wasn't even Nico! It wasn't even me!" And why that was part of what was so horrifying about it, he couldn't say. Maybe it was just that the entire thing was horrible for multiple reasons, and he would never be able to list all of them if he tried.
The look on his face when he finally looked up at Vash was absolutely wrecked, horrified at himself, hurting, and he could barely see him for the tears in his eyes, probably wouldn't have been able to make him out except for the bright, bold red of his coat.
"I desecrated his grave and it didn't even matter! And he-...you-...whoever buried him-...I thought-...I always thought...No one would ever care about me enough to...to bury me like that. I was just gonna be another body lyin' in a ditch somewhere! And I put you through that! How could I ever make up for that??? I-..."
He shook his head, looking almost lost for a moment before a tiny thought hit him, and he glanced back, his brow furrowed as he tried to hold onto it before it got lost amongst the rest of the awful things that were rolling through his head.
"Vash, did-...did you bury a man out in December...? We-...We've been talkin' like...like we're the people we...like I'm the same man you lost, but-..." How would he even know if he was the same man? He looked the same, only...his hair was darker, wasn't it? Did he dig up the man this Vash had buried? Did that make it easier or harder if he had? Did it even make a difference?
His head was so scrambled, now that the emotions he'd been keeping down had come unbottled and were spilling out for God and everyone to see. Dealing with these emotions was so much easier when he refused to think about them. Like this, they were overwhelming, the pain they caused was so much sharper, like a physical pain and not just the dull ache of guilt and self-hate he had gotten so used to throughout his life. How did Vash even live like this, feeling everything so openly, letting it hurt so much?
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He could have almost smiled, before that little chuckle came, and then Vash calling him out on wanting to find the other two made him stop short and blink, and suddenly he was turning bright red and sputtering, surprised and confused as it dawned on him that he had actually already been planning on doing just that. He stammered for a second, awkward and looking between them, his mouth moving without any actual words forming, before he swallowed around the lump in his throat and his eyes flittered around the room in search of something safe to look at.
"I just-..." Worry. Want them to be safe. Made a promise in December. How could he even begin to understand why the need to...help? Find them, make sure they were ok? Had just come naturally, let alone explain it in a way that didn't sound crazy? "I just wanna help. If...if he told Needle-Noggin about what things are gonna be like for the next couple of months, then...that means he's alone now, too, right? So...that makes two of 'em. Even more reason to tell 'em how to find Rem with the rest of you, right?"
And unfortunately, all of that, the realization of what he was doing, thinking about those other men out there, hurting and alone and hiding while the dust settled, just brought the guilt he'd been doing his best to keep shoved down in the back of his head back to the surface. The horror he'd felt when reality had hit him at that grave in December. He watched Blondie walk out the door, nodding gently. He did not miss the way his voice shook, and it only made the fact that he was leaving that much more nerve-wrecking, even if he knew he planned on coming back.
"Yeah, 'kay...be careful out there..." His voice was soft, but he simply gave a small wave, and waited until he was down the hall and had disappeared down the stairs before shutting the door almost fully, leaving it closed enough that there wasn't a crack to peer through, but was still obviously ajar.
And then Vash's voice mumbled out behind him, and it was obvious just from the sound of it that he was uncomfortable, and that just made the guilt even worse.
He tried his best to compose himself, keeping a hand on the doorknob as he tried to think of what to say, where to even start, but there was so much, and suddenly all of the good news about finding their mother again, the kids being found safe, a home being set up for them, seemed like another world to him. Because all he could see was that body laid so carefully in the ground, tended to and cared for and loved, and all he could think about was the sound of Vash sitting beside him and crying his heart out as Wolfwood lost consciousness.
Well. That was probably as good a place to start as any, right? At the very least, it was the entire reason they were in this shitty place to begin with, wasn't it? It wasn't the only thing he had to apologize for, but it was the the first.
He turned, looked at him standing there, looking as awkward as he'd sounded, and looked away, doing his best not to break down while he fidgeted, his hands making aborted little jerks in the air like he wanted to reach out but was afraid to. It would be alright, wouldn't it? His feathers were hidden for now, so he wouldn't hurt him if he touched him again, surely, but he also didn't want to rush him, especially not after what had happened last time, not when they both seemed to be hovering on a razor's edge for something to happen and he knew the feathers had a tendency to show themselves when he was distressed. Not after the last time, when he'd tried to tear himself apart. And that memory just made the guilt even worse, and he almost lost control of his own emotions.
"I'm-...Vash, I'm sorry. I didn't say it to you properly before, and I should've, it's the least you deserved." Fuck. And there he went, his face screwing itself into a grimace even as he lost the fight against holding back his tears. "I was an idiot, I spent so much time hatin' myself, I didn't...I couldn't...I didn't stop to think about...about how much I was hurtin' you. I'm sorry." He pawed at his eyes furiously, but it didn't stop the way his voice hiccupped in his chest when he tried to speak again. "I don't-...I don't know...I don't know how t'make it up to you, or if I even can. I..."
He hiccupped again, shaking his head, and he was trying so, so hard to keep from breaking down sobbing again, the way he had by that graveside. Without Blondie there, trying to reassure him, to give him something other than his own nihilistic doom and gloom to latch onto, he was back to just knowing that he'd made his own bed and he was going to have to lie in it and there was probably nothing he could do to change that.
It certainly didn't help, knowing that he'd never gotten a chance to tell Vash where they'd been headed when they'd found him. Why they were in December that day.
"I made Blondie go back to the orphanage with me. I was so worried, when all of this weird shit started and Nico - his Wolfwood, I mean - was suddenly gone-...I was afraid...I was afraid he'd...that he'd taken my place out there. I...I couldn't just leave 'im out there...I had to know, I was so sure some other man had died in my place, and-..."
He needed to sit down, or at the very least not be standing there in the middle of the room. It left him feeling exposed, and he almost leaned back against the door before he realized it was supposed to be left unlatched and startled himself, reaching back to make sure he hadn't knocked it closed. His thoughts were scattered enough as it was, but he had his senses enough that, once he knew it was still ajar, he let himself back up to the little chair nearby and simply sank down into it, his eyes staring at the barely-closed door.
"I thought...I thought it'd be easy, right? I've made enough bodies, why-...why should seein' that one be any different? I'm a fuckin' idiot! I dug up that man's grave, and it wasn't even Nico! It wasn't even me!" And why that was part of what was so horrifying about it, he couldn't say. Maybe it was just that the entire thing was horrible for multiple reasons, and he would never be able to list all of them if he tried.
The look on his face when he finally looked up at Vash was absolutely wrecked, horrified at himself, hurting, and he could barely see him for the tears in his eyes, probably wouldn't have been able to make him out except for the bright, bold red of his coat.
"I desecrated his grave and it didn't even matter! And he-...you-...whoever buried him-...I thought-...I always thought...No one would ever care about me enough to...to bury me like that. I was just gonna be another body lyin' in a ditch somewhere! And I put you through that! How could I ever make up for that??? I-..."
He shook his head, looking almost lost for a moment before a tiny thought hit him, and he glanced back, his brow furrowed as he tried to hold onto it before it got lost amongst the rest of the awful things that were rolling through his head.
"Vash, did-...did you bury a man out in December...? We-...We've been talkin' like...like we're the people we...like I'm the same man you lost, but-..." How would he even know if he was the same man? He looked the same, only...his hair was darker, wasn't it? Did he dig up the man this Vash had buried? Did that make it easier or harder if he had? Did it even make a difference?
His head was so scrambled, now that the emotions he'd been keeping down had come unbottled and were spilling out for God and everyone to see. Dealing with these emotions was so much easier when he refused to think about them. Like this, they were overwhelming, the pain they caused was so much sharper, like a physical pain and not just the dull ache of guilt and self-hate he had gotten so used to throughout his life. How did Vash even live like this, feeling everything so openly, letting it hurt so much?