[ fuck those guys, junpei says, and charles huffs a wry laugh at that — because, yeah, sounds about right, that. and he's ready to leave it at that, too, casting about for another topic that might take them away from this one — except junpei's not done, and you did everything right hits him right in the gut, enough so that he lets out an involuntary exhale. because — well, yeah, there's stuff he's heard before, over the decades, stuff about how the lads were terrible and how it was unfair what had happened to him and that he hadn't deserved it; he knows all that, sure.
but somehow, for some reason, no one's ever commented on the reason he died. no one's ever said that it was right, that, and even if he'd known that, too... well. feels different when it's said out loud, by someone he cares about.
and yeah, maybe he's opened his mouth and started to say, ] I — [ — what, then? i'm fine does flit across his mind, then, but heavier are the words i didn't tell you to feel bad for me, because he hadn't — he'd just wanted him to know.
instead of saying anything then, he stares at junpei and his open arms for a second, blinking, and the gut punch from earlier has shifted into something warm in his chest, something that constricts his throat at the same time as it feels far too large to fit inside whatever spectral atoms make up his ribcage.
in the end, he folds like a wet napkin, falls into the hug, his arms going around junpei in turn, his face tucked against his shoulder. ]
Sorry, [ he mutters after a second, or five, or a minute, or two — he's a bit hazy on the time, here. ]
no subject
but somehow, for some reason, no one's ever commented on the reason he died. no one's ever said that it was right, that, and even if he'd known that, too... well. feels different when it's said out loud, by someone he cares about.
and yeah, maybe he's opened his mouth and started to say, ] I — [ — what, then? i'm fine does flit across his mind, then, but heavier are the words i didn't tell you to feel bad for me, because he hadn't — he'd just wanted him to know.
instead of saying anything then, he stares at junpei and his open arms for a second, blinking, and the gut punch from earlier has shifted into something warm in his chest, something that constricts his throat at the same time as it feels far too large to fit inside whatever spectral atoms make up his ribcage.
in the end, he folds like a wet napkin, falls into the hug, his arms going around junpei in turn, his face tucked against his shoulder. ]
Sorry, [ he mutters after a second, or five, or a minute, or two — he's a bit hazy on the time, here. ]