[ still cute, huh... yves just smiles sadly, his gaze drifting to a little bundle of spider lilies growing in the garden. white and pink, compared to the red and black surrounding his halo ]
... it was me, Hugo, and Adolphe for so long. I trusted them with everything. Adolphe knew everything about me. And he still loved me.
[ and there's a little sense of amazement there, because yves is someone who does not expect love from anyone. ]
I... lost him for the first time, four years ago. So it's not a new wound... it's a reopened one. Even still... it aches.
[For all his clownish tendencies, he does listen with a solemn ear. It's hardly a monologue but the weight of the words has the heft of it. It tugs at his heart, hard. Makes him keep a grip on that shoulder, lest Yves dissipate from the face of the earth. He kind of looked like he wanted to.]
Sure, of course it does. It's not even that old of a wound, is it? [Four years is a very small time. Much too small to pull yourself together whole, for a person who meant the world to you.] You could lose someone twenty years ago and still miss them bad enough to burst out crying. When you least expect it, too.
And he was worth missing, wasn't he? I may not have known him half so well as you, but he seemed like a good guy. Funny one, too. In his own little way. [He raises his brows and clucks his tongue.] Maybe less "burly" than advertised, but damn, if that was the only strike against him, I guess he was real hot shit.
[Perhaps not a turn of phrase that translates. He hopes the delivery does the defining for him, he's no good at editing on the fly. Richie's a rambler, quantity over quality. The best he can do is hope a few words hit the wall and stick.
[ yves smiles—and it's truly this sad, despairing thing but it has its own little inklings of fondness. of reminiscing. the person that he adored so dearly, and is always going to be worth missing. four years later, forty years later, if yves ever manages to get that much time. (he doesn't know if he wants that much time.) ]
... he died protecting the orphanage he grew up at from the Royal Guard. His mother, the children, his home. I arrived too late to help him. I... do think that's the day everything started going wrong. And all the years that came after were a nightmare.
[ and it scares him, a little, to think that's about to start again here. the years after that trickled, where yves lost almost everyone he could call a friend one by one. ]
Adolphe's the best, and sometimes I think he was part of what held my world together. I'll... keep going, even if he isn't here but it'll be hard. I know people here didn't know him that well but... he says he doesn't like people that much, but he'll never let you down when you need him.
He's patient, kind, and genuine in a way that I could never match. He always knew the right thing to say, and the way to say it to make it really feel like everything's going to be okay.
And... sometimes I feel like I need to hear that, here. I miss it already. Miss him already.
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no subject
... it was me, Hugo, and Adolphe for so long. I trusted them with everything. Adolphe knew everything about me. And he still loved me.
[ and there's a little sense of amazement there, because yves is someone who does not expect love from anyone. ]
I... lost him for the first time, four years ago. So it's not a new wound... it's a reopened one. Even still... it aches.
no subject
Sure, of course it does. It's not even that old of a wound, is it? [Four years is a very small time. Much too small to pull yourself together whole, for a person who meant the world to you.] You could lose someone twenty years ago and still miss them bad enough to burst out crying. When you least expect it, too.
And he was worth missing, wasn't he? I may not have known him half so well as you, but he seemed like a good guy. Funny one, too. In his own little way. [He raises his brows and clucks his tongue.] Maybe less "burly" than advertised, but damn, if that was the only strike against him, I guess he was real hot shit.
[Perhaps not a turn of phrase that translates. He hopes the delivery does the defining for him, he's no good at editing on the fly. Richie's a rambler, quantity over quality. The best he can do is hope a few words hit the wall and stick.
There's a beat. Then, tentatively:]
...May I ask what happened before?
no subject
... he died protecting the orphanage he grew up at from the Royal Guard. His mother, the children, his home. I arrived too late to help him. I... do think that's the day everything started going wrong. And all the years that came after were a nightmare.
[ and it scares him, a little, to think that's about to start again here. the years after that trickled, where yves lost almost everyone he could call a friend one by one. ]
Adolphe's the best, and sometimes I think he was part of what held my world together. I'll... keep going, even if he isn't here but it'll be hard. I know people here didn't know him that well but... he says he doesn't like people that much, but he'll never let you down when you need him.
He's patient, kind, and genuine in a way that I could never match. He always knew the right thing to say, and the way to say it to make it really feel like everything's going to be okay.
And... sometimes I feel like I need to hear that, here. I miss it already. Miss him already.