dissonates | (no subject)

[Asch hesitates, trying to decide just what he's feeling about all of this, then finally lifts his arms to hold Guy back, fingers curling slightly in the material of his vest.]

...I... know. And I said thanks...

[He has no idea what else he's supposed to do. He hasn't hugged anyone of his own volition for a very long time.]

[Guy waits for just a moment longer before slowly letting go, pulling back and holding Asch at arm's length to give him a very thorough once-over. Just to make sure he's all right.]

[Asch is once again surprised, but it's a pleasant one, so even under the scrutiny he responds with a very faint smile.]

I'm alright, Guy. I... actually feel better than I have in months.

[Asch usually went silent when he wasn't feeling well, rather than trying to lie and cover it up. Also...Guy could just tell. Relaxing just a fraction, Guy releases Asch and gives him a nod.]

All right. Let's get back inside then, it's freezing out here.

[Asch nods without argument, relaxing as well. Guy accepts his reassurance; that helps things a great deal. It means he looks better, and Asch doesn't want to look sickly or weak anymore. He hated the way he'd died. It wasn't going to happen again.]

What did I miss?

A lot of nothing. Strange things have been going on, but...well, I mean, after a while it kind of blurs together, doesn't it?

[Guy doesn't bother telling Asch that he hadn't been motivated to do much of anything the past week.]

Strange things are always happening here. I'm probably lucky for missing out.

Probably. [Guy reaches over to ruffle Asch's hair, not quite sure why. But the touch feels natural.]

[Asch blinks at the touch, staring over at Guy, pausing in mid-step. It took him a moment to recover, eyes averted, blushing faintly.]

You seem kind of different.

Yeah?

[Guy strokes his chin for a moment in thought.]

...then I guess we match.

....

[Asch is quiet for a moment once more, glancing sidelong at him as he starts walking again.]

Yeah. I guess we do.

[Guy smiles, ducking his head a bit and swinging his arms at his side as they walk.

His hand brushes against Asch's.]

[And as soon as it does, Asch grabs ahold of it, clinging for dear life. The reaction is instantaneous and childish, yet he can't stop himself or even bring himself to withdraw. He'd just been dead for Lorelei's sake.

Maybe this one small thing, when no one else is looking, can be allowed.]

[To be honest...Guy had been half-expecting it. Asch never said anything, never said when he was tired, needed food, warmth, comfort. Never let people know whether he was suffering or not, or if he needed a friendly arm or ear. Never told anyone.

So Guy would just have to do his damnedest to tell just by looking. His fingers close around Asch's in response, and he gives the teenager's hand a reassuring squeeze. I'm here.]

[With that tiny gesture, Asch breaks a little. His throat constricts, his fingers tighten, holding on almost to the point of being painful. There's a smile frozen on his lips that could never be shaken, never be torn away, because it's Guy doing this - Guy, who hates him, who wants to kill him, who missed him, who grieved his death. Guy, who's holding his hand and telling him without saying it out loud that it's okay. That he's there, and he's not going anywhere. That Asch doesn't have to go anywhere. His eyes are burning and it hurts, but it feels good, too. It feels normal. Human.

I'm not going to cry. I'm not a child. I'm not the goddamned replica.

And he chants it like a religious mantra in his head, not even realizing that he already is.]

[Guy holds in a sigh at the quiet sound of Asch desperately muffling a sob. Honestly. He turned sharply and tugged Asch along, pulling more insistantly when there was a bit of resistance. Stringing the redhead along until they reached a small, enclosed alley between two houses and a clutch of trees, Guy leaned back against a wall and set a hand on Asch's head to tug the teen's face against his chest.]

C'mon, before we get home.

G-Guy, I'm not--

[Asch shudders at the touch, trembling against him, face buried to Guy's shirt. He grasps the other man's shirt as best as he can with shaking hands, and curses between clenched teeth, eyes shut to try and block it all out. He's being such a fool. Why the hell is Guy tolerating this? It makes no sense. He's stronger than this. He's not the replica.

Why the hell am I doing this?!]

I hate this. I hate it! Goddammit...!

Then get rid of it.

[Guy murmurs; his chin rests atop Asch's head. Red hair brushes against his lips as they move, and his fingers are lost in red.]

Hate it and then push it out. Not down, not away to deal with later. Just get rid of it. It'll only hurt for a minute.

That's... funny, coming from--

[He falls silent partway through, biting down on his tongue to stop himself. It's cruel of him to say, and Guy's being so kind. Lashing out wouldn't help either of them in the slightest.

Anyway, Guy doesn't deserve that. He's right, as the seconds pass; it becomes easier, and he feels himself regaining control, quieting down. He starts to relax his grip on Guy's clothes, the tension slowly draining from his body. The moment's past, and he finally feels a little more like himself again.]

[It doesn't take a fontech scientist to know what Asch was going to say, but Guy doesn't fault him or even take offense. Instead, he slowly drags his hand through Asch's long hair, allowing the sigh this time.]

How do you think I know?

.... I know.

[Asch closes his eyes, breath evening out. He's doing well enough now to pull away, but something's holding him there, and it's not just Guy. Instead he just keeps resting against the other man, letting the wetness dry on his cheeks and against Guy's clothes, refusing to wipe them away himself. That would force him to acknowledge them, and he couldn't handle that yet.]

...Does it make you feel weak?

Maybe at first. [Guy just keeps stroking Asch's hair, keeping a rhythm. Soothing, steady, sure. Unchanging.]

But after a while you feel stronger afterwards. Just give yourself a little bit, Asch. You can't strengthen steel without bending it first.

Bend it too far and it'll break...

[The words are quiet, whispered, almost. But what comes next is even quieter, very nearly inaudible.]

Unless it's been softened.

[Why is he saying this?]

Mmm, sometimes it does soften, and sometimes it breaks. But you know what happens after that; you bend it, pound it, flatten it. Heat it, push it to the limits and when it's all said and done, you have something in your hands that's as close to perfection as you're gonna get.

[Sift, sift...Asch's hair slips through his fingers like strings of silk. It catches a bit, there are tangles. He's going to need to brush his hair when they get back home. Maybe if Asch lets him, Guy'll do it.]

But people aren't swords, or weapons. And you aren't steel.

[It hurts, a little. It hurts to hear it. But it's a simple truth, and something Asch can't deny as much as it burns him to realize it. He's not steel. He's not an invincible soldier who can keep on trucking for days, months, years, without feeling some sort of wear on his body and spirit. He's been pushing himself so hard all this time without a moment of complete relaxation and he's forgotten what it's like to be normal. To be human.

But he is. He is human.

And it's terrifying.]

This would be a lot easier if I was.

(no subject)

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