yves listens and he watches, and he thinks of how many times he's seen this before. the grief that hits so suddenly, so painfully, after it's been tried to be pushed down. what must it mean to die alongside someone and then not see them again in the afterlife? (he knows. he does know, and he wonders if he should be hades burning alongside the person he's looking for.)
it's for that reason that he's careful when he places a hand at richie's back, mindful of injuries but still trying to be soothing. always trying. ]
... you must miss him. It must've been hard to see him, even if you wanted nothing more than to see him.
[His shoulders hitch at the touch, paired with a sharp inhale. But he doesn't pull away. Does his best to still his breath, grit his teeth until his head screws on straight enough to keep it together.
His voice is still drawn taught when he works up an answer.]
Sure. Now I can see it. At the time it was just... [He shudders, inhales once in full, and finally takes his hand off his face. He'll be all right. He's good. He's not going to have a whole ass fit in front of the kid, no matter how supportive he'd be about it. It's just undignified.] Part of the illusion. I didn't recognize him from home. Now that I'm out of it, I know what it was to see him.
A goddamn kick in the pants. Courtesy of some sick son of a bitch or just the chaos of the universe in action. I can't rightly say.
[ yves thinks about how painful it must be. to see someone and not even fully comprehend what they mean to you, even though they do mean the world. to know that it's probably just some illusion of this place, playing with memories and sights that you hold in the depths of your heart ]
... it could be any of those.
Even still... I'm sorry, Monsieur Richie. That must be really painful in a way that not even physical wounds can compare to.
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yves listens and he watches, and he thinks of how many times he's seen this before. the grief that hits so suddenly, so painfully, after it's been tried to be pushed down. what must it mean to die alongside someone and then not see them again in the afterlife? (he knows. he does know, and he wonders if he should be hades burning alongside the person he's looking for.)
it's for that reason that he's careful when he places a hand at richie's back, mindful of injuries but still trying to be soothing. always trying. ]
... you must miss him. It must've been hard to see him, even if you wanted nothing more than to see him.
no subject
His voice is still drawn taught when he works up an answer.]
Sure. Now I can see it. At the time it was just... [He shudders, inhales once in full, and finally takes his hand off his face. He'll be all right. He's good. He's not going to have a whole ass fit in front of the kid, no matter how supportive he'd be about it. It's just undignified.] Part of the illusion. I didn't recognize him from home. Now that I'm out of it, I know what it was to see him.
A goddamn kick in the pants. Courtesy of some sick son of a bitch or just the chaos of the universe in action. I can't rightly say.
no subject
... it could be any of those.
Even still... I'm sorry, Monsieur Richie. That must be really painful in a way that not even physical wounds can compare to.