Asch doesn't respond; he knows there's no point. He listens to Guy's words, his head bowed - not in shame, not in misery, not in anything but a lack of will to raise it - and then, after, listens for the footsteps of the other man's retreat. It's cold, it's abrupt, it's almost heartless, really. The words of someone who has no sympathy or understanding for what he's experienced. No desire to care. No desire to listen. He'd heard something else in Guy's voice then, something he'd never heard before. Something he couldn't explain or give a name to.
He considers it for a moment, then dismisses it. Maybe he'll think about it later. Right now? He can't do it. He's glad, actually, to hear those footsteps, and he waits until he can't hear them anymore before he slumps back against the pillows of his bed, finally releasing his grip of death on the blankets.
Self-worth? That's laughable. So laughable it hurts. To believe that he'd had any, to believe that all his pomp and arrogance and talking-down to the replica had meant a damn thing, in the end. Apparently he is a better actor than he'd originally figured.
What does it matter. What does it matter to you, too.
Nothing. Nothing at all.
The worst of it, the absolute worst, most painful part of that exchange, the way Guy lashed out at the end with his final, dismissive accusation...
It's almost the same as what he might have said before, more than a year ago, his Guy. Almost like they'd been having another one of their fights, like it was normal, like something was there, something he could reach out and touch and not get burned by that ever-present hatred. Something that was equal parts affection. Something that made them allies, friends. Something that made him a person Guy didn't want to lose.
Because dying for someone else isn't the answer.
Because there's nothing more important than living.
Because too many people in the world have already died.
"Because we're friends."
Because I never wanted to die.
But Guy is already gone (and it wasn't that Guy, that Guy had been gone a long time ago, and he knows it, he knows it even if he can't stop the memories from invading this moment). And Asch is grateful for it, and for a long time he lies in his bed and trembles silently and he can't figure out whether he's laughing or crying until he feels something wet on his cheek and a part of him is quietly scolding finally, finally, and the voice that he hears in his mind is Guy's.]
[Action] I think this thread successfully achieved some feels
You happened.
Asch doesn't respond; he knows there's no point. He listens to Guy's words, his head bowed - not in shame, not in misery, not in anything but a lack of will to raise it - and then, after, listens for the footsteps of the other man's retreat. It's cold, it's abrupt, it's almost heartless, really. The words of someone who has no sympathy or understanding for what he's experienced. No desire to care. No desire to listen. He'd heard something else in Guy's voice then, something he'd never heard before. Something he couldn't explain or give a name to.
He considers it for a moment, then dismisses it. Maybe he'll think about it later. Right now? He can't do it. He's glad, actually, to hear those footsteps, and he waits until he can't hear them anymore before he slumps back against the pillows of his bed, finally releasing his grip of death on the blankets.
Self-worth? That's laughable. So laughable it hurts. To believe that he'd had any, to believe that all his pomp and arrogance and talking-down to the replica had meant a damn thing, in the end. Apparently he is a better actor than he'd originally figured.
What does it matter. What does it matter to you, too.
Nothing. Nothing at all.
The worst of it, the absolute worst, most painful part of that exchange, the way Guy lashed out at the end with his final, dismissive accusation...
It's almost the same as what he might have said before, more than a year ago, his Guy. Almost like they'd been having another one of their fights, like it was normal, like something was there, something he could reach out and touch and not get burned by that ever-present hatred. Something that was equal parts affection. Something that made them allies, friends. Something that made him a person Guy didn't want to lose.
Because dying for someone else isn't the answer.
Because there's nothing more important than living.
Because too many people in the world have already died.
"Because we're friends."
Because I never wanted to die.
But Guy is already gone (and it wasn't that Guy, that Guy had been gone a long time ago, and he knows it, he knows it even if he can't stop the memories from invading this moment). And Asch is grateful for it, and for a long time he lies in his bed and trembles silently and he can't figure out whether he's laughing or crying until he feels something wet on his cheek and a part of him is quietly scolding finally, finally, and the voice that he hears in his mind is Guy's.]