[There are plenty of responses he could give to that: denial, anger, frustration, outright hatred, although the last wouldn't be genuine, much as he could try to pull it off. After those months since his predecessor's return he's just gotten... tired of seeing Guy, of seeing that unabashed hatred in his eyes, hearing the disdain or dismissal in his voice. The obvious preference of Luke's company, the way he'd tried - and often succeeded - in separating Asch from Luke, the one other person he'd come to care for and trust to the same degree as Guy himself. A closeness that Guy had never understood and never wanted to. There'd been so much venom there, and it only served to remind him that this is so, so unhealthy. He knew it then and he knows it now. He can't handle this because he doesn't have the strength to fight back.
He wants to tell Guy to leave. He wants that so much, because he's so sick of hurting, and it took so long to just get over this and deal with it, and he really wants Guy to be the one to experience that pain, too. That would be fair, wouldn't it? To spread that pain around a bit? Hasn't he been through enough already?
But...
....
Dammit.]
You always have to make it so damn hard, don't you? To refuse you...
[His voice is quiet, hands tightly grasping the counter, his knuckles going white. He hates not knowing the future, where this will take them. That's the really awful thing he's come to realize in this place, over the years- back home he'd hated the Score and all it stood for, but at least he'd always known his place, his future. He'd followed Van, and then he'd followed his own path, but he'd had a goal, an end game. He knew the inevitable end, the only unknown factor was how much he could accomplish before he died. Now even death is neither an escape or anything to fear. Life itself is a blessing and a curse that never ends.
This is what drives people mad here, isn't it.]
I can't just... forget you. If it was that easy I'd have done it more than a year ago, and this wouldn't be so difficult. But to get that close again is...
[Terrifying. That's the only word he can think of, and he can't bring himself to say it, either. He feels like he's standing on the edge of a cliff, and letting himself fall would just cause more pain, so why not back off? Find more stable ground? But there is none in a place like Luceti, and he's so sick of being alone, but he can't just let anyone in, and...
no subject
He wants to tell Guy to leave. He wants that so much, because he's so sick of hurting, and it took so long to just get over this and deal with it, and he really wants Guy to be the one to experience that pain, too. That would be fair, wouldn't it? To spread that pain around a bit? Hasn't he been through enough already?
But...
....
Dammit.]
You always have to make it so damn hard, don't you? To refuse you...
[His voice is quiet, hands tightly grasping the counter, his knuckles going white. He hates not knowing the future, where this will take them. That's the really awful thing he's come to realize in this place, over the years- back home he'd hated the Score and all it stood for, but at least he'd always known his place, his future. He'd followed Van, and then he'd followed his own path, but he'd had a goal, an end game. He knew the inevitable end, the only unknown factor was how much he could accomplish before he died. Now even death is neither an escape or anything to fear. Life itself is a blessing and a curse that never ends.
This is what drives people mad here, isn't it.]
I can't just... forget you. If it was that easy I'd have done it more than a year ago, and this wouldn't be so difficult. But to get that close again is...
[Terrifying. That's the only word he can think of, and he can't bring himself to say it, either. He feels like he's standing on the edge of a cliff, and letting himself fall would just cause more pain, so why not back off? Find more stable ground? But there is none in a place like Luceti, and he's so sick of being alone, but he can't just let anyone in, and...
...he's so predictable. So pathetically cyclical.
He hasn't learned a thing, has he?]
...what do you want from me?