sticksandbones | I'm on the brink of disaster [OTA]

Entry tags:

I'm on the brink of disaster [OTA]

Who: Nicholas D. Wolfwood and YOU
What: Catchall log for the aftermath of Saint Nick
When: December 26th onward
Where: Various
Warnings: Reckless behavior/irresponsible drinking

A) Staring down the consequences | OTA

[It's been a couple days, and Wolfwood is still...well, he sure is. And now it seems that the Grove all gets to have a say in the life and times of No Man's Land, so that's pretty Cool. While he does make sure to keep up with Vash's post and all of the responses out of a sense of schadenfreude, it doesn't exactly make him feel any better. Eventually, he has to put it away and go back outside for a while. Not into the Forest thankfully, but out into the snow just outside the Inn, dressed up in his coat from Heimr with a cigarette clutched tight in his teeth.

He's out here because he kindof has to be. He has a puppy on a leash, who has been waddling around in the snow for the last fifteen minutes, biting at the snowflakes and rolling around on the ground.

He watches, deadeyed, as she stuffs her face into a pile of snow all the way up to her neck.]

...please. Please, god.

[He's begging you

He is begging you to do your business he's so fucking tired]

B) To break hard would be better | Locked to Mizuki

[At some point when the puppy has been taken care of and is curled up asleep on his pillow, Wolfwood leaves again. He heads for the therapy building with full intent of going to the rage room and breaking more shit in the hopes it will help him feel less listless and dumb in the head.

Except...he gets there, and he sort of lingers in the middle of the lobby. Like he's lost, or he's forgotten where the room even is. Perhaps that's what it is, or maybe it's that he knows that breaking things isn't really the solution this time.

Maybe he should just leave.]

C) Tonight I'll do what it takes to fail | OTA

[...so anyway when that didn't work, Wolfwood decided to just grab the last of that whiskey bottle from his room and head back out to go wandering again. There's actually a lot of this town he hasn't visited for one reason or another, and the rec center is a place he flat out didn't know existed. Blessedly empty as it is, it's a siren song calling for him. He drags himself through the snow and inside.

...he's not expecting to find a giant like. Waterpark, or something, in here. Who the fuck built this?

He wanders as he periodically drinks straight from the bottle, wondering if the water is cold. It probably is since it's like two degrees outside. His footsteps echo loudly in the empty space, with pools scattered throughout. His feet are cold. Maybe it'd feel nice if he took his shoes off and just sat at the edge, assuming the pools are heated or something. Would somebody build this whole thing and NOT go to the trouble of doing that?

Fuck, he doesn't know. Nobody has this kind of money back home, and certainly not the resources to be wasting this much water. He sits down on the tile like a toddler and awkwardly kicks off his sockless, very wet (very sad, they're in BAD shape yall) shoes before scooting towards the water's edge.

If you show up right around now you'll just see Wolfwood sitting at the edge with his feet in the water. If you show up like, ten minutes later, it will be to the tune of somebody falling in.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Vash doesn't argue, save giving him the sternest look he can muster. Regardless of what ultimately convinces Wolfwood, Vash is at least satisfied when he trudges inside, jacket in hand. He is very decidedly not thinking about a drunken Wolfwood being naked in his bed right now. He doesn't want that regret simmering in his head before their conversation to come.

That doesn't keep his heart from lurching at the sight of Wolfwood nestled into his jacket. New as it is, it's still something, seeing him draped in Vash's own characteristic red. He distracts himself by holding out an arm for the clothing, before trudging his way toward the stairs downward.]

C'mon.

[He thinks about offering a hand, an arm, or something for WOlfwood to keep balanced on, but that seems like too much. Any contact feels to audacious. He doesn't deserve -

but he stops that thought before it can continue.]

[Wolfwood will, at least, hand the clothing over for Vash to take, mostly because it's so cold and kindof uncomfortable to keep toting around when he's still as damp as he is. He will carry the blanket though, haphazardly tossing it around his own shoulders as they trudge down the Inn stairs and out into the snow outside.

Though Vash has told him about his place once or twice, Wolfwood has made it a point to pretend he didn't know it existed. It's hard to miss even in its secluded location- it's visible clearly from the rec center after all, which is where he just came from- but still. Better for his mental health to ignore it, instead of thinking about the convenient timing at which it appeared. The moment they had their falling out and Vash listed every crime of his to the whole Grove, he fucked off to the furthest place from everyone else he could manage. It's not subtle.

But all of that, as it simmers in the back of his mind, Wolfwood keeps to himself. It's as he said after all, he doesn't want to talk about any of it while he's as inebriated as he is. It will only invite variables that neither of them want, and put them back in the same situation they were in before, if not a worse one.

It's cold, and dark by now. The Grove seems eerily silent with all of its inhabitants indoors for the evening. Wolfwood chooses to stay silent, having to focus all of his energy on not beefing it in the snow.]

[Likewise, Vash remains silent as well. it's only once he reaches the door of his home and unlocks it that he remembers that he probably should speak, even if it's nothing more than a low statement.]

Bed's off to the right. I'll get a fire going. Keep the jacket 'til it's warm, yeah?

[He has no intentions of even sharing the same room as Wolfwood. It would invite too many concerns and complications the morning after. If they're going to have any chance at this, they need to head into a clean slate. Besides, there are worse places to sleep than a wood floor in front of a fire.

He leaves the door open long enough for Wolfwood to slip through, then closes it behind him. It's locked tight, then Vash heads over to the fire place as promised. He gets to work on throwing some wood in, starting a halfway decent base to warm the place.]

[They enter Vash's humble abode, giving Wolfwood a chance to look it over for the first time. It is...pitifully empty. Like there's nothing in it? Yeah it's its own house, there's a fireplace and a piano for some reason, and presumably a bed in the bedroom...

He looks at Vash sidelong.]

You live like this?

[To his credit, Vash laughs. It's a little bitter sounding, but it isn't entirely without humor. Tearing his attention away from the fire that's only just taken to the tinder, he motions to himself with a wry grin.]

Look at me, Wolfwood. You think this isn't enough for a guy that never settled down ina century?

[It's practically five star accomodations for a guy like him.]

Now go get some rest. I'll make sure the place stays warm and the dog is taken care of.

Yeah yeah...

[The answer seems to placate him, if nothing else. He tugs the blanket a little tighter around himself before tromping off to bed, presumably making it there without falling on the way.

True to his word, he does go to bed. He's drunk enough that falling asleep in Vash's jacket isn't entirely out of the question, but ultimately due to its design, it's kindof...bulky and unwieldy enough trying to get in bed with it that he opts to not. Instead, he sits upright on the edge of the mattress with his eyes closed like an old man, waiting for both the room to stop spinning and for things to feel less frozen. At least warm enough he knows he won't go into shock once he takes it off. Then, a handful of minutes later, he kicks off his shoes and takes off the jacket, draping it at the foot of the bed (since I'm assuming Vash doesn't have like, chairs, bitch he's living like this-).

My man is sleeping commando as he crawls into bed, pulling the sheets up to his shoulders before covering everything with the blanket from Livio. He passes out...pretty much immediately after doing that, though he will likely wish in the morning he'd drank more water, or maybe took an aspirin or something. Ah well, hindsight is for losers.

Now the question is, will Vash come check on him, or will it be the other way around? Possibly the former since Vash still has his clothing, but you know-]

[There is zero furniture aside from the piano and the piano bench, thank you. Beyond the basics of a few dishes here and there, he has next to nothing. It's exactly as he had asked for, and he'll be sure to thank Heimr for that much.

Anyway, Vash will absolutely not be sleeping that night, thank you. Wolfwood will need the fire to stay warm given how cold he'd gotten, and so Vash makes a point of staying awake for that reason alone. The fire is rekindled every hour, keeping the house nice and temperate.

He waits for two cycles until he finally gets up to check on Nick, because of course he does. He only wanted to make sure he was well and truly out. He doesn't expect Wolfwood to be entirely bare-assed under the blankets but. What the hell. It's the last thing Vash will complain about.

After a few moments spent making sure that Wolfwood's breath comes in even spurts, he ducks out once more. He returns just a few seconds later with the single glass he owns, freshly cleaned and filled with water. He doesn't have any painkillers, and can't even say for certain if they exist in the grove.

From every hour onward, Vash establishes himself a pattern. When the fire goes out, he lights it once more. And once it's going good and strong, he peeks in to check on Wolfwood. It's enough of a routine to get him through the night, and by the time the sun rises, he's mostly certain Wolfwood will be alright.

It's only then that he dismisses himself, going to take care of his other promised duty. Angelina is not only taken out, but he scrounges up some food and water for her, just to be sure. He even lays on the ground playing with her.

Is he buying time, in fear of coming back to a fully awake Wolfwood? Probably.

Eventually, though, he does return. A pitstop is made along the way for a few pills that he's almost certain are your basic aspirin, but who can say for sure. After that, he trudges inside and peeks around, looking to see if Wolfwood has roused himself fully.]

[Wolfwood sleeps like a log. Normally, he'd dream. He'd have nightmares. But right now, it's like the alcohol lulls him into a sleep that is complete and uninterrupted for the first time. He's lucky that he doesn't get sick, but honestly it would probably take a lot to get Wolfwood to that point. He's made of some damn tough stuff, and if alcohol were liable to kill him then he'd probably have already been killed by far less.

He might have also slept in, if it weren't for the fact that his body can sense he's not in "his" room. In fact, his eyes open not long after Vash leaves to go check on the puppy, and for a while he just lays there in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The memories of yesterday come back to him, slowly. Wandering the grove. Going to the therapy building and his talk with Mizuki. Going to the rec room and nearly drowning before Elsword saved his ass.

And now he's here. In Vash's house. Having ultimately locked himself into a choice he made while drunk, even though he knows realistically he could just leave while Vash isn't here. He could steal away and they could pretend this never happened. But...

He doesn't regret choosing to do this, even if he wasn't fully in his right mind. He remembers Vash speaking in a way he wouldn't have expected from him, and it piqued something in his mind that is telling him he should pursue it while he still can. That isn't to say he's at all happy- far from it- but...well. Maybe he's willing to stick around, just to see what Vash might be about to offer.

So, he goes to find his now dry clothes (Which, incidentally, he realizes have been left by the fireplace. It doesn't take much thought to figure out who put them there) and redresses himself in the meantime, patting down his pockets only to realize with dismay that his dunk into the pool had not only ruined all of the cigarettes he had on his person (Heimr is going to kill him), it also probably ruined his lighter too. So, cool. He's going to need to do some shopping later, but honestly he probably shouldn't be smoking in Vash's house anyway. Instead, he'll grab for one of the wrapped suckers he'd left in his pocket, which are blissfully covered in plastic and were unbothered by the water.

That's how Vash is going to find him when he comes back. Wolfwood sitting on the edge of his bed with that blanket sort of loosely draped around his shoulders, dressed fully, with a lollipop stick in his mouth.]

Edited 2023-12-27 02:30 (UTC)

[Even with alcohol in his system, Woflwood is a probably a light sleeper. Thus, Vash knows it's likely he's going to walk in and find a very awake Wolfwood waiting for him. There's also the chance he'll find nothing at all, too, but he pushes that thought to the back of his mind. He has to hope this will work. For being someone so keen on pushing Wolfwood away just a few days ago, the idea of fully damaging their relationship is a sickening one.

Still, even with all his mental preparations, the second he actually meets Wolfwood's eyes, every thought he's ever had leaves his mind. He stares at Wolfwood, gaping dumbly. Does he remember the apology? Does he still even want to talk? Should he even be here? It's his house, but he'll leave if that's what Wolfwood wanted.

He'd done it before, after all.

In the end, he can do little but hold out his offering of pills. It feels wrong, speaking first in this nebulous state. He just bows his head, closes his eyes, and waits for him to say something.]

[Their eyes meet, and Wolfwood feels very much like Vash's ice blue eyes are staring directly into his soul. He is fully sober now with a pounding headache and a lot on his mind, yet he isn't about to be the one to start the conversation when Vash was the one who came to his door first. He's the one who said he wanted to explain, he just has to remind himself of what Mizuki said.

Have the conversation on your terms. But does he even truly know what that means?

For the time being, he looks wordlessly at the pill bottle before taking it slowly from Vash's hand, popping it open and shaking out two into his palm, which he'll swallow dry unless Vash brought some water. Then, he'll toss the pill bottle back at him.]

Where did you sleep?

[He's not sure why that's the first thing he asks, but there you are.]

[Unless Wolfwood downed it, there's still the water on the bedside table. Vash even gives a helpful nod that direction, before turning away. He goes to grab the piano bench, dragging it over so that, if nothing else, they both have a place to sit and watch each other.

It's going to be a painful conversation. The least he can do is get comfortable, especially if Wolfwood isn't intending on leaving.]

I didn't really sleep. [He freely admits it, at least. No sense in lying when they're trying to have an honest conversation.] You were real cold last night, Wolfwood. I didn't want the fire stayin' out on you.

[He is, notably, keeping the word "Nick" far from his lips. It would remain to be seen whether or not he earned that right again.]

Do you still wanna talk? Hell, do you even remember having that conversation. It's alright if you didn't just - [He gives a heavy shrug.] Just know that you can walk away at any time.

[Maybe he's stalling, but he has to be sure about this. It wouldn't do either of them any good if he started dumping on Wolfwood who hadn't given his proper, sober assent to the conversation.]

[Definitely stalling, but Wolfwood isn't going to call him out on that. He just sits there, his expression difficult to read. He does remember it, it's just vague and hazy, like he was watching himself go through the motions instead of actively in control. It's exactly why he'd told Vash that, under no uncertain terms, would he be having any kind of talk with him while that drunk. It would be disingenuous to Vash and to himself and basically spit in the face of the whole point of what he was trying to tell Vash when he kicked him out the first time. The bruise is still on his face, still purple but healing, and it's a grim reminder of what Wolfwood had said. That line he drew quite firmly in the sand between them.

He has to wonder what Vash has learned to think he's ready to tiptoe past that line.

He works the lollipop around in his mouth, pushing it over to one side. He probably should just remove it so they can talk, but he doesn't want to. Having something there to chew on keeps him both focused and grounded, and it will likely remain even when the candy has completely melted away. It's better than sitting there smoking between them, if nothing else.

After a moment or two of tense, uncomfortable silence, Wolfwood exhales slowly.]

I remember. I also remember it ain't been that long since we talked the last time.

[Well, "talked". More like Wolfwood kicked Vash out on his ass, but still.]

And if you've managed to somehow make a grand revelation between then and now, I'd love to hear it.

[There's sarcasm there, sure. But he does mean that, too.

He is choosing to give Vash a chance to speak. One chance.

He wants to see what he'll start with, to see if Mizuki was right.]

[Well, this is it. He's compared several moments in their "relationship" as stepping off of a cliff, of falling into the abyss. For the first time, though, Vash properly feels that fear. Showing up again, so soon after they'd only just fought, was going to make it seem like Vash was just trying to brute force his way through. He had once chance to make it right, and now he's at a loss for the right words.

His mouth opens, then closes. Opens again, then snaps shut.]

I hurt you. Bad. [He strokes his fingers over the cracked back of his cybernetic hand. He stares at the fractal patterns spanning outward, trying to map them out instead of meeting Wolfwood's eyes. He's scared of what he'll see there. If he'll be condemned, then at least he won't have to see it.] I'm not stupid, even if I've acted it. I know the world has been cold to you. Hardened you. And when things are like that, there's nothing worse than being offered a place to lay your head and then having it yanked away.

I've done that to you a lot. I could tell you why, give you a whole sob story but it doesn't really matter, does it?

[He sighs, heavy enough that his body sags forward. His elbows brace against his knees, just barely keeping him upright. From this half-bent position, he finally lifts his eyes. He's still afraid, but acting a coward wasn't the right way to go about this either.

He forces himself to look at Wolfwood.]

I haven't... been fair to you. And I'm sorry for that.

[Wolfwood can tell just by looking as Vash that this is difficult for him. Maybe not saying what he needs to exactly, but finding the right words. It's not like he doesn't understand. He likes to think he's categorically miserable at dealing with others. They both are, which is why up to now their relationship has been such a god damn mess. Who knew that not only were their ideals diametrically opposed, but the way their brain chemistry works too.

But what he'd said to Mizuki is true. He doesn't want to give up. But he doesn't want to feel like he's yelling an an unyielding wall, or a yawning ocean that is roaring too loudly for his words to be heard over its din. That's what it's felt like. That's what it's been.

So he listens. He listens in a way that he feels like Vash still really hasn't, but there's still time for that. And once Vash finishes with that final apology...Wolfwood remains silent. He's not looking away, but instead staring directly at Vash, never once having dropped his gaze even if Vash hasn't been able to meet his own. Thanks to his shades, Vash's skin is still etched with those eerie blue patterns, even though he knows they're not there in reality. He probably should take them off, but...]

...that's a start.

[He moves to fold his arms across his chest.]

You could tell me why. You could. But you're right. It doesn't matter, because that ain't what I want to talk about when I already know why.

[He's pretty sure if he wrote an essay on how Vash feels about himself, he'd make at least an A. That's how many times he's heard that same rhetoric, this concept of needing to be the villain so that he feels like he's atoned for something. And it's not that Wolfwood doesn't understand, as he's backslid into the same way of thinking.

It's just that...as he says, he doesn't care about any of that. This is not about their pasts, or the bad things they've done.

It's about them. Their relationship, and how they're going to save it.]

[It's a start, Wolfwood says, and Vash feels that yawning abyss of despair widen all the more significantly. He hadn't expected to be forgiven so easily, but he would have hoped for something more to go off of. Alone like this, he's grasping at straws and hoping he's finding the right answer. Livio had said so much to him, and Vash had done his best to learn. Now under the gun, however, every thought seems to scatter. And Wolfwood gives him nothing to grasp onto.

The swallow that follows is surely audible. He looks down at the floor once more. The fear creeps further into his chest. Everything he wants to say — I was scared, I don't deserve you, I don't want to lose you — all comes back to him. He's been selfish enough in the last few weeks. He doesn't need to give Wolfwood more of the same. That wasn't going to salvage things.

Even if... maybe some part of him smarts at not being able to speak his own piece. He hasn't earned it, he knows this logically. But Wolfwood assumes that he already knows everything there is to Vash, and it lashes hard at the walls of his heart.

With some difficulty, the feeling is swallowed down. He's used to diminishing himself for the sake of others. He can do this here too, if that's what it takes to make things right between them.]

I... really don't know what I'm supposed to say next. Thank you, for bein' so vulnerable with me in the first place? For having trusted me? I could say "I won't do it again" but isn't that just me trying to say what you want to hear?

[His posture shifts once more, this time wrapping his arms around himself. He should have talked to someone about this before charging in head first. He should have made a better plan instead of running in half-cocked like he always did. This was his last chance, and he can feel it slipping through his fingers.

Breathe. Think. He has to try, for once in his damn life, listen to what someone has told him. He thinks back to his conversation with Livio, plays it over in his mind and -]

I wanna know what you need. All I've done all this time is assume I knew best. Obviously I don't. But I'm here and I'm listening, if you want to give me a chance. [His fingers tighten against the sleeves of his jacket.] And if you don't, I understand that too.

[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.

[...]

That's what hurts.

I want you, Nick. [The name slips out before he can stop himself.] Here. With me. I do.

[His voice catches on something, a ragged noise leaving him before he can stop it. Saying as much aloud makes him feel small and terrified. Every time he's wanted something, it's been ripped away. Putting it out into the world feels like writing Wolfwood's name in blood. But if he can't admit that much, if he can't overcome that fear, they won't get anywhere.]

I know you don't need to hear about all the things I've lost. 'n you don't need to know about the things I've done. But I - [When he closes his eyes, he sees bodies. Sometimes, it's those he's damned. Other times, it's the people he's loved along the way. The grip he has on his arms tightens, the metallic fingers gouging in hard enough to bruise.

Focus.]

No, no. [He shakes his head.] That isn't it. It's that - I don't get to make that choice. It doesn't matter how scared I am. [And he is. That's what it comes down to. He's terrified of losing Wolfwood like he's lost every other good thing in his life.] It's not my choice to make. Not for you. You're a grown man, and you can protect yourself a lot better than I can protect me. So really, I oughta be trusting in you, right?

[The way Vash suddenly says that in such a clearly affected way is so genuinely starting to Wolfwood that he goes very still, like an animal trapped in a cage. He's still staring at the window, except now his eyes have gone wide, and his own grip on his arms is tight enough to hurt in equal measure.

I want you. It feels like a trap, to trust those words, even when he knows that's his own insecurities and uncertainty about the situation rearing its ugly head. Because why wouldn't he, when they kissed, and then Vash disappeared?]

...

[...

But finally, Wolfwood nods, his gaze shifting back to look at Vash again.]

Yes. Like...Vash, you told me that you knew that I was leading you into a trap. You knew it, but you didn't tell me or confront me on it, because you trusted me. You believed in me that much, for some reason, that you kept going on as if everything was going to be okay. I know that's...different, but.

[His throat flexes as he swallows, and for a moment his own words catch there.]

I know you're scared something's gonna happen to me. I can't say it won't. It probably will. But that doesn't mean it will be because of you. And even if it is- [Wolfwood stutters on a laugh, except it sounds. Odd. Nervous, even.] -then. Fuck. Maybe I'm okay with that, you know? Maybe I'm willing to take that risk. S'not like I haven't done stupider shit with my life.

...probably sounds stupid, coming from a guy who was forced to babysit you through the desert. Believe me, I didn't chase after you wanting to meet the legendary Humanoid Typhoon or anything like that. But there's a reason I told you all that shit about my life. It wasn't because I was drunk, or because I was emotional because I was drunk, or-

[He gestures vaguely with one hand, sinking back so his shoulders rest against the wall of Vash's bedroom. His brows furrow, and in that moment he looks.

Sad. Because he didn't just tell Vash about his past, or cry on him, or be vulnerable. They did much more together than that, and for someone like Wolfwood who has never done something so personally intimate in that kind of way...]

I trust you. I trusted you.

[Trusted, is what Vash's ears pick up on. It echoes in his ears, booming loud enough that Vash can't hear anything else. He can't help but imagine the period on that sentence. He'd deserve it, if he'd broken Wolfwood's trust so severely as to not be worthy of it again. It'd be yet another sin on his hands, a weight to crush down on his shoulders.

His knee begins to bob up and down. There's more to what Wolfwood said that hasn't sat well with him. He can already feel it eating through his resolve, even as he tries to keep it tamped down. There's more that he has to focus on, he can't come back to his own doubts.

An empty promise is a lie. Those were Wolfwood's own words, weren't they? So how did he come back from that?]

I wish I could say "you can trust me." Like that would make it all better. [Wolfwood wasn't a kid though, and he certainly wouldn't take Vash at his word.] I want to try, but -

[The nervous energy finally gets the better of him. He stands up, making his way across the small living area and into the bedroom proper. He doesn't dare sit beside Wolfwood, or anywhere near on his level. Instead, he sinks to his knees. From there, he stares up at the other man. There's a level of desperation in his words, a panic that's been building since the moment Wolfwood had said he was willing to accept that end.]

You can't say that to me. You can't say you're willing to let me be the death of you, Nick. You're too good, y'know that. I know you don't believe it and I - I don't know how to get you to see that. [His head bows, angling just enough to brush over Wolfwood's knee. It's too much to ask for, too intimate, but he does it all the same.]

I lost my mother. I - don't know if I can bring my brother back. I can't just accept the idea of losing you too. [It feels a little less dangerous, to shed a single tear like this. To sniffle wetly. Wolfwood can't see him, can't prove that he's actually broken down.] I want to make it work, but if you do - you have to promise me somethin'.

Don't get yourself hurt because of me. Don't - let me lose you. Someone as - as precious as you shouldn't lay down your life for a guy like me.

[His hand lifts, scrubbing furiously at his face. He knows Wolfwood will see this for what it is. It makes him feel all the more guilty.]

'm sorry. It isn't about me. Shouldn't - make it about me.

[Wolfwood maybe doesn't realize how he's kindof triggered Vash with those words, but rest assured it was completely unintentional. That feeling from earlier, that burning desire to make Vash hurt? It's...not gone, not necessarily, but it has definitely been buried now that he realizes that Vash has been hurting. He's been hurting every moment of every day, trying to do the right thing, trying to keep the people closest to him safe. An impossible task, especially for someone who invites chaos simply by existing.

Initially, Wolfwood's brain...definitely hears what Vash starts to say wrong. "I wish I could say you could trust me" makes him bristle because it's the exact thing he hates that Vash does, where he'll say one thing and Vash goes "cool, anyway maybe don't". But before he can act on that feeling, Vash has suddenly gotten to his feet and has joined him at the bedside, not on the bed, but quite literally knelt in front of it as if in prayer. Vash is here, clearly beginning to become overwhelmed with some sense of panicked frenzy, and there's a good moment or two where Wolfwood simply does not know what to do. He knows, at least, that speaking right now would be unwise, which is why he keeps his mouth shut and lets this play out.

At first, the sentiment is a lot of what Wolfwood has heard from Vash before. Similar, yet framed in a different light. Less of a "you don't deserve a fuck up like me", and more "I don't want you to die for me". And maybe that's been what it is all along. Maybe.

And Wolfwood really wants to ask Vash, honestly, if he could do the same. Could he resist throwing his life away for Wolfwood? Could he? Because he knows the answer to that is no.

It's so hard. It's so fucking hard to know what to do in this situation, because it doesn't seem like there's an answer either of them will be happy with, in the end.]

...needle-noggin.

[Tongari, he says. It feels like a long time since he's called him that, somehow.]

You're actin' as if I want to die. I'm reckless. I'm a stupid asshole. But you know me. If shit starts getting hairy and I ain't got a reason to be there...I don't stick around.

If I wanted to die like that, I've had a hundred thousand ways to make that happen. I ain't a self sacrificing type, like you.

...and I wish you could tell me that you wouldn't throw yourself in front of a bullet for me, but I know you would. Even if it meant I lost you. Cause that's what you live for. ...right?

[His voice is softer now. Low, like he's saying something meant only for the two of them to hear.]

...if I made you think that you can't ever talk about yourself to me ever again, I'm sorry. That's...not what I meant. If this is gonna work, I need to hear how you feel, too. Just as long as it doesn't mean you talking over me.

[And as if to prove that, to prove to Vash that he means what he says, Vash will feel Wolfwood reach out and place a hand on his head even if he's not looking, his thumb brushing over the edge of it to pull some of his bangs out of his eyes.]

[Somehow, Wolfwood manages to put together what Vash has been saying all along. He doesn't want to see the Punisher die, period. And if he can't have that (knows he can't, because of how precious and fragile human life is) then the least he could ask for is for him to not die because of Vash.

His head hangs low, drooped in penance, like he's awaiting eecution. He doesn't expect salvation in the form of those words. Needle-noggin was probably meant to be an insult at one point, but along the way he's collected that nickname and held it close. Right now, it feels like a balm for his wounded heart, gives him hope that it isn't all gone. And for some reason, that faint flicker of optimism is what gets him to break.

It isn't helped by the hand in his hair. If Wolfwood was going to leave, he wouldn't do this, right?]

I'd do anything for you, Nick. [His voice is thick, words becoming more slurred by the second. Somehow, he breaks through it with a laugh — sardonic though it is.] 'cept actually listen to you. Give you a choice. Anything like that.

[He's an idiot, and he knows it. But he's an idiot that's trying. He's stumbling, like he's deep in a snowbank and trying to push his way through. But he's still trying all the same.]

s'not like I don't have anything to say. I just don't know how to say it. [A sniffle, now.] I just don't know how to say it and make it seem like I'm not putting myself first. I could say I'm scared but — ain't that sayin' you're not?

[He shakes his head once, twice, three times.]

You deserve me trying though. And - that's what I want to do. To try.

[Vash is right about one thing. Wolfwood probably wouldn't be giving up on him if he were petting his hair like he's doing right now. It's reminiscent of that night, when things got a bit too heated between them and started this whole spiral in the first place. There is still a good chance that something else is going to go wrong and start this all over again. Wolfwood isn't so naive as to think it can't.

Vash would do well to recall the words of a certain Vouivre, who told him We are inherently selfish beings. He didn't just mean humans, but all creatures with a soul. Vash is no different, inclined to be selfish whether it's a conscious choice or not. And though Wolfwood may struggle just as much if not moreso with social graces as Vash, he at least understands that a lot of what Vash says or does isn't intentionally hurtful. It's frustrating, yes. It does hurt, yes. But he's pretty sure Vash would sooner commit seppuku than hurt somebody on purpose.

Right. Okay. They're trying. They are trying, god damn it, but astonishingly they have not even gotten to the hardest part yet. It's what's causing a bubble of anxiety to form in the pit of Wolfwood's stomach as he cards his fingers through Vash's hair again, brows knitted together.]

If you fuck up, you fuck up. [He says, as if it's really that simple.] As long as you own up to it. But it's okay to put yourself first sometimes. I know I sure as hell have.

[There's no black or white, all or nothing. You have to strike a balance.

That said, though. He feels the other shoe starting to shift ever towards the precipice, which means it's time to stop tiptoeing around. They keep saying If this is going to work, after all.]

If we're gonna try...then we've got more we need to talk about.

[...]

C'mere.

[Vash, on the other hand, might have thought they were there. Maybe it wasn't a perfect resolution, but he would have thought the worst was over. They were going to try, and Vash was going to do better. No more running away. No more framing it as the right decision. He was going to listen, and not spit in the face of Nick's vulnerability.

That there's more makes the abyssal ambivalence rise again. He'd thought he'd done well and identified the problem. A gap in his efforts meant that he was lacking. That he would let Wolfwood down and prove that he hadn't tried as hard as he might have implied.

The panic tries to spiral. Vash tries to choke it down before it can. He listens to that command, even if lifting his head makes him feel seen. The tears are unshed, but they're brimming heavily at the corners of his eyes. Nevertheless, he hefts himself upward and onto the bed properly. They're level with one another.

Equals.]

Anything you need. [That's a promise, even if he doesn't frame it as such. So what if he hadn't prepared for this. All he needed to do was listen, right?] I'm... ready.

[Well see, the thing is. Wolfwood wouldn't call this a problem so much as delving into matters that he feels less able to deal with than the emotional ones.

Matters of the heart.

Maybe for Vash, it's obvious. He genuinely has no way of knowing, because Vash has never said as much, at least not in words. And for all intents and purposes, the only frame of reference Wolfwood has to go on right now is the fact that they kissed, and then Vash never elaborated beyond reacting in the most nuclear way possible. Sure, he can infer what that might have meant, and honestly he does wish he could just talk around it forever, but this is something he feels needs a more solid foundation.

So. Vash joins him up on the bed, and it's really not dissimilar to how things had been before. Only now, it's early morning instead of late evening, neither of them have been drinking, and they've had to dig into some pretty painful shit to try and drag themselves out of this mire they keep sinking back into repeatedly.

The only problem is, Wolfwood knows even less of where to start with this than the previous talk they just had. He tries to open his mouth and immediately feels the words turn to ash on his tongue. Maybe that's why, much like a sheepish child might, his fingers find and take the sleeve edge of Vash's jacket, worrying the material between his fingers.

He can't meet Vash's gaze.]

...why did you ask to kiss me?

[It is not a good sign that Vash starts to laugh. Even he knows it, judging by the way he immediately claps his free hand over his mouth. There's a sharp wince as the pain lances through his poor teeth (it was, unfortunately for both of them, the metal hand). The added benefit is the fact that a few of those pent up tears wind up streaking down his cheeks.]

Sorry, sorry. [His words are still muffled through his metal fingers. He pulls them away and draws in a breath.] I - got all worked up. Thought this was gonna be hard to answer. I'm sorry.

[He knows this is hard for Wolfwood. And he isn't trying to laugh at that struggle. But for someone who experiences love so easily and so vividly, this question isn't much of a question at all.]

I've wanted to kiss you since I met you, Nick. Since you first gave that kid a lollipop, said it was okay to eat, and then smiled that cocky grin. It's just gotten worse from there. [There's another laugh, but this one is far softer. It's fond and amused, suffused with all the warmth of a man who's had it bad for months.]

I like you, Nick. Even if it scares me. Even if - [His face falls.] Even if I feel like a person like me doesn't deserve someone as good as you. I like you. And I wanted to be with you.

I still do.

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cw: suicidal ideation implication, just in case

cw: suicidal ideation implication, just in case (just all the way down)

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