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

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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

[Well. Wolfwood is not sober enough to process Vash's first statement as being rhetorical, so he ends up answering it just as bluntly.]

Fell in the pool.

[Just. With no further explanation. He's wet, and he's cold, and he's not having a good time. And if he weren't being essentially body-blocked from his bedroom by Vash being right in front of the door, he would have likely shouldered past to go inside without another word to him. The reason why will become clear shortly, but for the time being...

Vash...starts to say he's sorry. Again. And Wolfwood is very much prepared to not hear it because it seems like it's going to be the same thing again. Hollow apologies with no real weight behind them, with Vash saying sorry for the sake of saying sorry and taking the guilt off his conscience when he doesn't actually know what he's apologizing for. But then there's...albeit briefly, a nugget of something that wasn't there before. It gives Wolfwood pause, at least until he doesn't elaborate and instead tells him he'll explain...if he wants.

If he wants.

Vash isn't walking away yet, no, but Wolfwood can tell he already has one foot out the door. Like he's being expected to be kicked out, or- at the very least- isn't assuming he'll be allowed to stay.

When Wolfwood finally talks, his voice is...heavily slurred.]

Lissin'. I don't...wanna do this with you right now. [...] Not...not while I'm drunk. Not again.

[And, boy, is he feeling it.]

Need't sober up...

[He continues, shaking his head a little. If Vash looks at him closely, he'll actually be able to see where those little crystals of ice have formed on his extremely damp clothing.]

[The ice is noticed, and it takes everything in Vash's power to not throw himself into helping. There is a brief instant where his hand extends, as if he wants to be the one to care for him in this moment. It stops short of the middle-distance between the two of them however, fingers clenching inward briefly before it stops entirely.]

I understand. [This isn't his place. Whatever vulnerability Wolfwood had been willing to show before isn't something Vash has the right to anymore. Even if he wants to help more than anything, it'll take far more time to build back up to it.

Instead, he glances over his shoulder, toward Livio's room.]

I can go grab Liv, if you want. [Even if he isn't allowed into this moment, he doesn't want Wolfwood to be alone. Not when he's half-frozen and drunk out of his mind. He's worried, even if he knows better than to say as much.] He can help you get cleaned up and into bed.

[He knows that the chance of this conversation happening tonight is effectively zero. It smarts, but he swallows it down. The ball is in Wolfwood's court now, and Vash has only one choice — accept that.]

When you're ready, my place is across the river. We can talk... whenever you're ready.

[Even if all he wants to do is take care of Wolfwood, he has half of a mind to walk away at that. The last thing he wants is for the Undertaker to think that Vash feels entitlted to care for him. Or that he's waiting for Nick to stop him. He wants to prove that he's accepted the consequences of hsi actions.

But again, he doesn't want to take the choice away. He won't leave until he knows it's what Wolfwood wants. Not because he isn't capable of making the choice himself, but because he's tired of taking it away from his friend.]

I don't need...m'fine.

[Is he? Because this is the same man who 1) fell in a swimming pool not thirty minutes ago and 2) drank poolwater. Survey says he's not fine at all. In fact, even as Vash is suggesting he go grab Livio to help, Wolfwood is instead obstinately reaching for the door to his bedroom, unlocking it and pulling it open without a second thought.

Sober Wolfwood would have known before doing this that this was a mistake.

Within the span of perhaps a millisecond, something black and furry comes bolting into the hallway like a bullet, literally vibrating as she bounces across the floor, slides into the far wall, and then starts dancing around Wolfwood's feet. Then, she notices Vash...and beelines it for him, yipping excitedly and jumping up on her hind paws to try and balance herself on Vash's leg.

That barking he'd questioned when he got himself punched has made herself known. It is a very small, very fluffy husky puppy that Wolfwood just accidentally released from his room.]

Augh, sonofa- Angelina.

[Nope, Angelina is not listening, her little tail is a blur as she tries desperately to reach Vash to lick him, but she's just licking furiously at the air since his face is like 5 feet away from her.]

[Look, since arriving, Vash and Wolfwood have been attacked by strange things. Thus, the Independent should probably be forgiven for jumping approximately three feet in the air and yelping at about the same pitch as Angelina's little yips. He holds himself like a scandalized Victorian Woman, before finally seeming to realize that this is a puppy, and that said puppy doesn't mean any harm.

Right. Okay.]

Hey there, li'l miss. Don't think you're supposed to be out of your room, you know.

[He kneels down, solely because her current hyperfixation will surely keep her from running away and out into the snow. At least if he's getting the shit licked out of him, she'll stay in one place. So Vash lays himself into the crossfire, lowering his face to be absolutely obliterated by one very enthusiastic puppy.

Once she's thoroughly distracted by him, he makes his move. He reaches his arms out to snatch her up and -

instead pitches forward, face first onto the ground. Distracted by puppy as he is, he has only his nose to break his fall. Ouch.]

[......okay, so maybe it's because he's so drunk, or because it's just so insanely sad that Vash beefed it on the floor trying to pick up a puppy, but watching him crash his face into the floor makes Wolfwood snort, unable to actually hold the laugh back before it comes out of him. It could also be due in part to him still being mad at the guy, and seeing him fall all over himself feels deserved, in some bitter little way.

That, and he knows he's fine. Vash has done way, WAY worse to himself and came out none the worse for wear.]

Nice goin', ash'hole.

[He watches as the puppy takes full advantage of Vash being prone on the ground to rush up and excitedly stick her tongue right into one of his ears. Luckily, she is so distracted that she can't hop away from Wolfwood leaning down to scoop her up in one hand in a manner that says he's probably done this a couple times before. She's already tried to break into other peoples' rooms at the inn, so.

He steps back after that, eyeing Vash on the floor with the puppy held in one hand, looking from her to the Independent and back. She's panting and whimpering excitedly, and just thinking about it he knows she isn't going to let him get any sleep to shake off the remainder of the booze. So.

Wolfwood sighs, then reaches back to pull the door to his room open with his heel.]

Hang on a sec.

[He backs into it (Vash would be totally justified in thinking that Wolfwood is just leaving to his room for the night) and pushes it mostly closed before going back inside to nestle Angelina on his bed, knowing she won't actually stay there but hoping the allure of warmth will keep her there until he can check up on her later.]

[Then he's back with Vash in the hallway, his smile fading once he's no longer in her presence.]

Listen up. That puppy ain't gonna let me sleep, and I've got a headache. So.

[He tilts his head to one side, avoiding Vash's gaze.]

...if you really wanna talk. I'll s'chtay over at your place. But you gotta come'ere an' walk her in the morning. Got it?

[Then he leans back on his heels, pushing his hands into his (wet) pockets.]

...ll'figure out where I am in th'mornin'.

[Either he'll be sober and want to leave, or...he'll humor Vash's request.]

[There isn't a lot of time to stop Wolfwood from closing the door on him, even partially. Vash pushes himself up to his knees after the puppy assault ends, sniffing and snuffling as he tries to figure out if his nose is well and truly broken. It isn't, by some miracle, but it sure hurts like hell.

Just add another injury to his poor list.

As the haze starts to clear, Vash ultimately finds himself staring at a half-closed door. He hears the shuffling around, nearing where he remembers Wolfwood's bed to be. With no other hope to grasp onto, Vash does indeed assume the worst.

He's starting to walk away when the door opens once more. Vash whips around and - well. He has to stop to collect his thoughts.

It's a dangerous offer. The last time they two of them had shared a room while drunk, things had gone really well to really poorly. In a lot of ways. Vash is almost afraid of what might come next. But if he's going to be the one to honor Wolfwood's requests, then he's gotta start somewhere, even with the really, really stupid ones.

One slow inhale later, Vash gives a nod. That doesn't mean they're going entirely under Wolfwood's own suggestion, however. Vash shakes off his coat and holds it out to the other man.]

You either change first, or you wear this. You already looked like an icicle when you came in, Wolfwood.

Well yeah. Was gonna just strip and go to bed.

[So do with that what you will, fun fact Wolfwood is WAY more hammered right now than he was when they first drank together so he's not really filtering or caring what he says right now. It's just a stream of conscious thought as he rolls his eyes and snatches Vash's coat from him. Then, he sort of gives him a look before he disappears back into the room again.

Cue a cavalcade of renewed excited barking from the puppy as he once more shuffles around for a few minutes. Then, he returns looking more like this (maximum flavor) with his folded up, damp clothing under one arm, and a very large knitted blanket under the other. About the only thing he didn't strip were his shoes, because this is the only pair he's got.

He has. A perfectly usable jacket....inside. But he is too hammered to remember it right now, and also it is Not Long Enough for his needs right now.]

There. Happy?

[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?

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