For a long time, holding someone and being held had been something he hadn't ever allowed himself, no matter how much that denial hurt. Even though, once upon a time, he'd just been a tiny little boy who went out of his way to do just that for the children around him. In a lot of ways, it felt so foreign and forbidden now, like he shouldn't be allowed, and that had been a rule he'd lived by.
But Blondie had been helping break down that barrier, little by little, first by giving him an excuse to tell himself that it been what Vash needed, and then to accept the fact that it was something he was allowed, too. It still felt wrong, still felt like he was taking comfort he didn't deserve. But when Vash held him close, he sank into the hold immediately, fuck what he was or wasn't allowed, and the old, instinctive motions came back as if he were small again, rocking them both in a somewhat frantic sort of self-soothing motion that he'd known how to do for almost as long as he'd known his own name.
He hid his face in the crook of his shoulder, sniffling back tears in a way that was hardly doing much to actually keep them down, but he was listening even as he tucked himself into that hold and let himself accept the sense of safety he gave. Vash, both - all - of them, had become the only place he could feel that, and he had started to become as addicted to the feeling as he had the nicotine in his smokes. At least this didn't risk putting him into an even earlier grave.
"That was you. At first...at first it was the kids, I had to keep going so they would be safe, and then you came along and...and for the first time, I wanted something."
No, maybe he wasn't the same man, but to be honest, the thought that there was a distinction hadn't even occurred to him until just now, so knowing the truth and keeping the two of them separate in his mind was pointless, except for the fact that it meant he knew that there was another man out there that he had hurt, possibly dead, and maybe that was his fault, too.
"Then...then your family took the kids," because there really was no doubt in his mind that Luida and the rest of Home were his family, as much as the kids and Livio and Miss Melanie were for Nicholas, whether he felt deserving of that or not. "Chapel can't hurt 'em anymore, they're bein' taken care of by people better than me, and...and you and Blondie are all I have left. But I keep hurtin' you!"
He shifted, holding him tighter, as if even his hold was a form of apology.
"You already hurt so much, and I just make it worse. Blondie, too, I just wanna make it stop, but I can't, I don't know how, and you both deserve to be happy! All of you."
He didn't know if that was an answer, or whether it was even close to helping him figure out what to do with himself. But his thoughts were muddled, latching onto one thing after another that had been weighing on his mind, as they came to him as if getting it all out there would help all of the pieces fall into place and he would suddenly know how to make it all right.
It really was so much easier when he kept things bottled up. Refusing to think about them made it easier to think clearly. As he was now, he was just a mess, a hodgepodge of hurts and worries and sadness that was blended together until he couldn't tell what was what or where it all connected. He'd wanted to apologize, for so many things. Proper apologies, for all the ways he'd fucked up and done the wrong thing since meeting him. Now, all he could do was dump all of his pain onto the shoulders of a man who deserved better, who didn't even have an actual connection to him to begin with, except for a resemblance to the man he was missing. He couldn't even be that.
"I know...I know I can't replace him. I'm sorry I can't be him. I don't..." He almost didn't finish the thought, worried it was too much, too presumptuous, an offense to the memory of the person Vash had lost. But he wanted, so much, he was selfish, greedy, a bastard who wanted more than he should and had started having trouble reminding himself not to ask for more than a monster like him deserved. So even as the shame made him choke on another sobbing fit and shift against him as if he were trying to hide away from the guilt but couldn't bear to let him go, he tried again to voice the want for something that for two years he hadn't thought he would ever be allowed again. "Please. I'm sorry, I know I don't deserve it, but I missed you-...him-...I...I don't want to be alone again! Blondie will find Nico again, and they won't need me anymore, and I'll be alone!"
In the end, the guilt of the want was still too much, and he bit down on his lip to keep from asking for it directly, his voice catching in his throat in soft, miserable sounds.
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But Blondie had been helping break down that barrier, little by little, first by giving him an excuse to tell himself that it been what Vash needed, and then to accept the fact that it was something he was allowed, too. It still felt wrong, still felt like he was taking comfort he didn't deserve. But when Vash held him close, he sank into the hold immediately, fuck what he was or wasn't allowed, and the old, instinctive motions came back as if he were small again, rocking them both in a somewhat frantic sort of self-soothing motion that he'd known how to do for almost as long as he'd known his own name.
He hid his face in the crook of his shoulder, sniffling back tears in a way that was hardly doing much to actually keep them down, but he was listening even as he tucked himself into that hold and let himself accept the sense of safety he gave. Vash, both - all - of them, had become the only place he could feel that, and he had started to become as addicted to the feeling as he had the nicotine in his smokes. At least this didn't risk putting him into an even earlier grave.
"That was you. At first...at first it was the kids, I had to keep going so they would be safe, and then you came along and...and for the first time, I wanted something."
No, maybe he wasn't the same man, but to be honest, the thought that there was a distinction hadn't even occurred to him until just now, so knowing the truth and keeping the two of them separate in his mind was pointless, except for the fact that it meant he knew that there was another man out there that he had hurt, possibly dead, and maybe that was his fault, too.
"Then...then your family took the kids," because there really was no doubt in his mind that Luida and the rest of Home were his family, as much as the kids and Livio and Miss Melanie were for Nicholas, whether he felt deserving of that or not. "Chapel can't hurt 'em anymore, they're bein' taken care of by people better than me, and...and you and Blondie are all I have left. But I keep hurtin' you!"
He shifted, holding him tighter, as if even his hold was a form of apology.
"You already hurt so much, and I just make it worse. Blondie, too, I just wanna make it stop, but I can't, I don't know how, and you both deserve to be happy! All of you."
He didn't know if that was an answer, or whether it was even close to helping him figure out what to do with himself. But his thoughts were muddled, latching onto one thing after another that had been weighing on his mind, as they came to him as if getting it all out there would help all of the pieces fall into place and he would suddenly know how to make it all right.
It really was so much easier when he kept things bottled up. Refusing to think about them made it easier to think clearly. As he was now, he was just a mess, a hodgepodge of hurts and worries and sadness that was blended together until he couldn't tell what was what or where it all connected. He'd wanted to apologize, for so many things. Proper apologies, for all the ways he'd fucked up and done the wrong thing since meeting him. Now, all he could do was dump all of his pain onto the shoulders of a man who deserved better, who didn't even have an actual connection to him to begin with, except for a resemblance to the man he was missing. He couldn't even be that.
"I know...I know I can't replace him. I'm sorry I can't be him. I don't..." He almost didn't finish the thought, worried it was too much, too presumptuous, an offense to the memory of the person Vash had lost. But he wanted, so much, he was selfish, greedy, a bastard who wanted more than he should and had started having trouble reminding himself not to ask for more than a monster like him deserved. So even as the shame made him choke on another sobbing fit and shift against him as if he were trying to hide away from the guilt but couldn't bear to let him go, he tried again to voice the want for something that for two years he hadn't thought he would ever be allowed again. "Please. I'm sorry, I know I don't deserve it, but I missed you-...him-...I...I don't want to be alone again! Blondie will find Nico again, and they won't need me anymore, and I'll be alone!"
In the end, the guilt of the want was still too much, and he bit down on his lip to keep from asking for it directly, his voice catching in his throat in soft, miserable sounds.