[He knows good and well he's giving Vash nothing to work with. It had been purposeful, at least to start with. Perhaps unfairly so, but Wolfwood never said he wasn't bitter and vindictive. There's still a part of him deep down that wants Vash to hurt as deeply as he hurt him, which is terrible and he realizes it, but it's a byproduct of Wolfwood...not having lived. Having no experience growing up normally, no social interactions that could have formulated a proper, healthy way to process emotions that doesn't devolve back into the most childish result imaginable.
But he's working on it. Slowly, bit by bit...maybe not in the best or most efficient manner, but he's trying. To see Vash do the same means that their situation isn't as completely hopeless as he thought, because he genuinely expected Vash to come in here parroting the exact same things he wrote in that stupid letter to the Grove.
...he isn't though. He hasn't.
Now it's Wolfwood's turn to mull over what he wants to say, gnawing on the end of that stick to the point where he's certain he'll have flattened it before they finish talking. Where to even...begin, with all of this. It forces him to think back to that "talk", how ugly and nasty it got pretty much immediately. That's what finally forces Wolfwood to break eye contact with Vash for the time being, his gaze listing over to the window where snow still steadily falls in the early hours of the morning.]
This whole time...it's felt like I've been trying to convince you of something you already believe isn't true. And whether or not I'm right, or you're right, doesn't matter. It's the fact that you don't at least try to listen to what I say. It felt like...my feelings didn't matter, so long as I was "safe".
[He goes silent for a moment, still looking elsewhere.]
I don't expect you to "not do it again". But you can't...expect me to be able to deal with you saying you'll do one thing, only to turn around and tell me I don't know what I'm thinking when you start to feel regrets about it.
I would've preferred you being honest with me. And if you really...really wanted me out of your life, you'd just do it instead of tugging me along on a leash, keeping me at arm's length, but not so close that it starts to get too real.
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But he's working on it. Slowly, bit by bit...maybe not in the best or most efficient manner, but he's trying. To see Vash do the same means that their situation isn't as completely hopeless as he thought, because he genuinely expected Vash to come in here parroting the exact same things he wrote in that stupid letter to the Grove.
...he isn't though. He hasn't.
Now it's Wolfwood's turn to mull over what he wants to say, gnawing on the end of that stick to the point where he's certain he'll have flattened it before they finish talking. Where to even...begin, with all of this. It forces him to think back to that "talk", how ugly and nasty it got pretty much immediately. That's what finally forces Wolfwood to break eye contact with Vash for the time being, his gaze listing over to the window where snow still steadily falls in the early hours of the morning.]
This whole time...it's felt like I've been trying to convince you of something you already believe isn't true. And whether or not I'm right, or you're right, doesn't matter. It's the fact that you don't at least try to listen to what I say. It felt like...my feelings didn't matter, so long as I was "safe".
[He goes silent for a moment, still looking elsewhere.]
I don't expect you to "not do it again". But you can't...expect me to be able to deal with you saying you'll do one thing, only to turn around and tell me I don't know what I'm thinking when you start to feel regrets about it.
I would've preferred you being honest with me. And if you really...really wanted me out of your life, you'd just do it instead of tugging me along on a leash, keeping me at arm's length, but not so close that it starts to get too real.
[...]
That's what hurts.