dissonates | [Action]

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[It's morning, and Asch is paying a visit to the smithy to look into getting his Maestro sword sharpened; it's been a while, and you can only do so much without giving it a proper filing. While he's there waiting for his request to be processed - or waiting for a free spot in the workshop to do it himself if necessary - he browses around the store at the new arrivals, wanting to check on what kinds of blades have shown up. And that's about when he stumbles upon something he definitely wasn't expecting to see.

So within a few hours, Asch can be found heading home through the snow with two swords, one at his hip and the other simply carried by his side, though he's careful with it, as if it's some kind of sacred weapon. He's looking for someone specific, but feel free to stop him en route to House 5 if you're around.]

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I'm sure you don't need to hear me say how much I hate your father for the billionth time.

It's not that simple though, is it? It never is.

No, but I can't sound that kind of thing out with you. [Asch might be angry at Fabre too, but Guy can't just spew all the hateful things he's thought to Asch. Especially since a fair amount of them have to do with how he planned to slaughter House Fabre and everyone tied to it.]

Just because I'm close to the situation doesn't mean I don't understand.

It's not that I don't think you'd understand. I'm very sure you would.

I want you to understand something, as well. [His gaze is much more steady now, unflinching, unwavering.] How I feel about my father is nothing compared to how I feel about you.

[Guy shakes his head.]

That's not it either.

Then what is it?

[Guy shifts his weight awkwardly, obviously hesitating.]

...there's a lot of thoughts I've had that have never seen the light of day. That I've never even voiced aloud. I don't want you to hear them.

[Asch pauses at that. Those ugly, hateful feelings... maybe Guy is right, maybe he shouldn't hear them. But Asch doesn't believe it, not really.

Maybe... maybe if...]

...I was young, too. Eleven, maybe twelve. Almost twelve, I think. That's when I really started to hate him. I had a lot of things on my mind that I could never share with anyone.

[Dammit Asch you really aren't going to let Guy duck out of this easily are you?] This is different.

Asch, has it ever occurred to you that I might feel ashamed?

[That's not part of the plan, no.]

Has it ever occurred to you that you're the one least likely to forgive yourself for it?

I have forgiven myself for it, for the most part. I wouldn't be in a relationship with you otherwise. But it's not a part of my life I'm eager to revisit, and the fewer spectators the better. I don't want you to know what was going through my head then. You already get the gist of it; you don't need all the sordid details too.

Edited 2010-11-20 13:15 (UTC)

So when you vowed to be honest with me, did that only apply to issues that come up in the future? Are we exempt from sharing our pasts, even with the one we're supposed to be closest to?

[Dammit you HAD to bring that up.]

...you don't want to know these things, Asch. You don't. Trust me.

Don't tell me what I want. You have no idea.

[Guy presses his hands together and touches his fingers to his mouth, deep in thought.

Then he turns on his heel.] Come on. This isn't the place to have this conversation. [Asch might be able to strongarm him into talking but he'll be damned if he risks Luke listening in.]

[Asch reaches out, grabbing Guy's arm and pulling him back. He doesn't have the time or the confidence to feel victorious about this, so instead he just lets a surreal sort of calm take over.]

Wait. Finish the laundry and take a break. My room in ten minutes- he won't come there unless I call for him.

No. In ten minutes I'll have an excuse that you'll swallow. Your room now. [And Guy takes Asch's hand from his arm, squeezing it tight before starting to drag him down the hallway.]

[Whoa. Asch is a little worried that Guy needs some sort of cool-down time, but if now is when it's going to happen, then he won't argue, silently following Guy to the smaller bedroom on that floor. This is definitely a time when the locks and his fonic link will come in handy, especially if Luke or Natalia are around the house.]

[Guy has a seat heavily in the nearest chair, and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He clasps his hands in front of himself, staring at a fixed spot on the floor for nearly half a minute before he begins to speak.

He tells Asch everything.

He tells Asch about when he first met him, how he'd hated him more than anything in the world. How when he had to kneel in front of Fabre that he'd wanted to die from the humiliation. How he was terrified; how Pere taught him the sword and Guy would practice until his hands developed blisters, and then until the blisters burst and bled through his gloves if only so he could get better faster, so he could get good enough to kill enough people in the manor so it would count.

How he'd resigned himself to dying -of course the knights would either kill him, or he'd be dragged in front of the king before a formal execution. He hadn't thought about that part too much though, he'd been far too concerned with how much relief he'd feel after watching Asch gasp around a slit throat. How good it would feel to see Susanne Fabre tearing at her hair over the body of her son, how good it would feel to see the Duke watch everything he had crumble.

How, on his darker days, he'd even considered killing the maids as well. It would be filthy, just like Fabre had been, to kill civilians. It wouldn't be honorable, and all Guy wanted back was his honor, but sometimes he was so angry he couldn't stand it. How dare they serve such a monster with smiles on their faces? Some days he hated every Kimlascan he saw, not just the ones with red hair.

Guy told Asch about the nights he stood over his bed while he slept, clutching a knife he'd taken from the kitchens in his shaking hands, desperately trying not to breathe too loudly even though it seemed like the room didn't have enough air. He'd only been at the manor for two weeks then; Asch had been fallen ill and Guy had to keep him company the entire day. Guy had come so close as to hold the blade an inch above Asch's neck but Asch had sighed in his sleep and startled him, and Guy had fled from the room and shut himself into his and Pere's quarters, a trembling mess.

Sometimes Guy would steal some of Asch's things, if he could get away with it. He would take some of his possessions and destroy them, break them. He'd pin up the banner over his bed and hide Asch's things beneath his mattress, forbidding the maids to come into his room to clean for fear that they'd see what he'd taken. He would take Asch's books and rip out the pages, write hateful things on them. He'd take Asch's clothes and tear them, cut them up. He'd take Asch's toys and wrench them in his hands, slam them against the floor until they cracked and broke, and he'd clutch the pieces in his hands and shake until Pere could calm him back down. He'd clench his teeth so hard it hurt.

Guy pressed a hand over his eyes.

He told Asch about when he'd brush his hair, how he wanted to just make a fist and yank it back, hard enough to make Asch scream or cry. How every sliver of hatred, every horrible feeling he had would pile up and how he'd set them all squarely on Asch's shoulders. Guy had hated him so much that even hearing Asch call his name, smiling and pulling him along to play, was enough to make him see red.

How he'd been happy that Asch had been kidnapped. How he'd hoped that Asch was suffering, wherever he was.

Guy stopped.]

Edited 2010-11-20 13:49 (UTC)

[It's a lot to take in. Hard to hear it, even harder to accept; Guy had been right, it was all so ugly, so hateful. This was Guy, the Guy he'd loved and treasured and hugged and played with as a child. His precious servant, his childhood friend. He'd known for a long time that it had all been a lie, but it's quite different, hearing it to that extent, knowing just how deep that lie ran through Guy's heart.

The last part- that's the worst of it. And while he'd remained quiet and relatively calm throughout it all, even he can't help but flinch a little at that, finally looking away from Guy to face the window instead. It's still snowing outside, harder than before, and the warmth of the inside air is forming fog on the glass.

It isn't how Guy feels about him anymore. He knows that, he knows. And that sort of hatred is something he understands very well. How many times had he felt such thoughts about his replica- about Luke? How often had he dreamt about killing Luke, or watching him die, or knowing that he'd died in Akzeriuth like he'd been born to do, drowning in the filthy mud and miasma of the Qliphoth. It had been such a comfort to know that everyone who had made him suffer would pay for what they'd done. Even Guy, even Natalia. They were all going to die when Van purged the Score from the world. And then he could die too. At last.

He doesn't know what to say. For a long while, long after Guy's finished, he can't think of a single thing. He could talk about how he understands, coddle him and say how he's forgiven for it, he could explain how it wasn't his fault, he could even prove Guy right by accusing him, getting angry, expressing pain or shock or betrayal. So many options, and he'd probably be justified in some way or other.

Guy had said he couldn't do it wrong, after all.

...it all feels empty, though. Every single one. So Asch sighs quietly to himself, watching his breath on the window, and finally speaks up.]

Thank you.

[Guy shakes his head hard, lifting his other hand to cover his eyes as well. He hunches his shoulders. Grits his teeth.

God damn it. He hadn't wanted to do that. He'd put it away far enough that he'd never have to think about it again, and now it hurts like it was just yesterday.]

[Asch doesn't move at first, doesn't so much as glance over at Guy. It's too much, it's too soon. No one would want to acknowledge the person to delighted in your own suffering. Not too long ago he'd have been outraged, shamelessly letting it out and storming off to brood or abuse someone who didn't know any better.

Such a hypocrite.

He doesn't do that now, though. Instead he stands up from his seat by the window, stepping over to Guy's chair and crouching down in front of it, knees resting against Guy's legs for balance. He reaches up, tugging at one of Guy's hands to pull it away from his eyes and hold it closely. If Guy fights, Asch will fight back, his gaze slowly growing steady again, the way it was when he'd decided this was what he wanted.

He's determined not to regret this. This is Guy, all of Guy- the noble servant who loves and hates and feels just as much as everyone else.]

Edited 2010-11-20 14:36 (UTC)

[Guy, naturally, does fight. He tries to wrench his wrist out of Asch's grasp, recoiling.]

Get off of me!