Wolfwood feels the protests and rejection of what Vash is saying try to bubble up in the back of his brain, only to be immediately pushed back down when he feels Vash's hand at the back of his neck. It's weird, registering it through the haze of the high he's feeling, because he's realizing he hasn't felt an encouraging, grounding touch like that in. God, he has no idea. Years upon years. Perhaps it never happened, and even if it had- perhaps when the caretakers at the orphanage were looking after him- the torture had blasted it from his memory. He knows there's a lot that he can't remember even now, it feeling so far removed from his current reality that it's hard to believe he was ever that scrappy kid all of the other kids saw as family.
He saw them as family, too. He still sees them that way, even if they don't know whatever happened to little Nicholas. To them, he may as well be dead. It's really the core that makes up everything Vash sees in Wolfwood to be true, the good in him that he refuses to see for what it is.
He exhales shakily a few times, and before he realizes he's doing it, he's leaning back into the curve of Vash's hand on his neck.]
no subject
...
Wolfwood feels the protests and rejection of what Vash is saying try to bubble up in the back of his brain, only to be immediately pushed back down when he feels Vash's hand at the back of his neck. It's weird, registering it through the haze of the high he's feeling, because he's realizing he hasn't felt an encouraging, grounding touch like that in. God, he has no idea. Years upon years. Perhaps it never happened, and even if it had- perhaps when the caretakers at the orphanage were looking after him- the torture had blasted it from his memory. He knows there's a lot that he can't remember even now, it feeling so far removed from his current reality that it's hard to believe he was ever that scrappy kid all of the other kids saw as family.
He saw them as family, too. He still sees them that way, even if they don't know whatever happened to little Nicholas. To them, he may as well be dead. It's really the core that makes up everything Vash sees in Wolfwood to be true, the good in him that he refuses to see for what it is.
He exhales shakily a few times, and before he realizes he's doing it, he's leaning back into the curve of Vash's hand on his neck.]
Blondie. I...
[Wolfwood starts. Trails off. ...never finishes.
He's falling asleep.]