[ it's... not a surprise, not after rollo. but it still breaks vash's heart with an almost audible snap.
sometimes, plenty of times, he thinks about it -- what it would take for he and nai to reconcile. what would vash have to give up? which of rem's ideals would he have to sacrifice? and what would nai give up for vash in return?
but their separation isn't a stagnant thing. his brother keeps taking steps away from him, past the part of anything vash can condone with his forgiveness, and it rips pieces out of him every time. (and it still hurts to know that nai feels the same, blames vash for being the one to sever the bond between them and keep the distance growing.)
he squeezes his eyes shut, hands tensing on wolfwood's hips. he won't let himself cry; he doesn't deserve to, not over this. it's his sin as much as knives; by running from him instead of confronting him, by being passive all these years, he made himself into a participant. besides, he and nai have always shared everything -- the same womb, the same first breaths, the same mirrored beauty mark on each of their faces. how could the blood on his brother's hands not stain vash's, too? ]
no subject
sometimes, plenty of times, he thinks about it -- what it would take for he and nai to reconcile. what would vash have to give up? which of rem's ideals would he have to sacrifice? and what would nai give up for vash in return?
but their separation isn't a stagnant thing. his brother keeps taking steps away from him, past the part of anything vash can condone with his forgiveness, and it rips pieces out of him every time. (and it still hurts to know that nai feels the same, blames vash for being the one to sever the bond between them and keep the distance growing.)
he squeezes his eyes shut, hands tensing on wolfwood's hips. he won't let himself cry; he doesn't deserve to, not over this. it's his sin as much as knives; by running from him instead of confronting him, by being passive all these years, he made himself into a participant. besides, he and nai have always shared everything -- the same womb, the same first breaths, the same mirrored beauty mark on each of their faces. how could the blood on his brother's hands not stain vash's, too? ]
... it's the orphanage, isn't it? [ voice tight, low. wounded. ]