12-27-2022, 10:06 PM
He wasn’t asking Nox to give anything up. On the contrary.
He felt a measure of relief at the reply. Raffe didn’t want to be the mechanism for someone else’s hurt, even someone he didn’t know. Burning the bonds of brotherhood made him feel soul-sick in a way he couldn’t quite describe, but he understood the need for a boundary, and it settled him back into silence to understand it was not a meaningless platitude. In the meantime he knew he wasn’t allowing himself to feel the brunt of his own pain, but deflection was a familiar compatriot; it was easier to think about others before himself. His own emotions had been weaponised against him plenty of times in his past. It wasn’t a choice to hide. It was a numbness of self-survival: one he couldn’t help.
When tears leaked hot at the corner of his eyes, he only brushed them aside. I’m okay marched through his head like a ragged pennant, but he already knew it for a bitter lie. He winced when Nox smashed his head back against the wall, but didn’t look across. Didn’t trust himself to.
Nox talked about weakness, but Raffe wasn’t strong either. He was aware of the hand placed on the floor between them like a question. He was aware too of his own frailties; knew that if Nox softened the distance between them, he would not protest the comfort. Only he wasn’t sure if it would be in forgiveness or goodbye he reciprocated, and he didn’t want to feel the burdening weight of either. Not when it all felt so raw.
He’d gone quiet again. Insular.
The last words cracked him open, though. He felt the shearing in his chest like a physical pain. If trust was the balm to Nox’s soul, right now it felt like razorblades to Raffe’s. It didn’t feel like something to be lauded; it felt like the height of foolishness. The anguish tightened hoarse in his throat. His hands shielded his face, fingers digging into his scalp. And he sobbed.
He forgave Nox. Didn’t blame him in the first place, or his friend. But he wasn’t so sure he could forgive himself.
He felt a measure of relief at the reply. Raffe didn’t want to be the mechanism for someone else’s hurt, even someone he didn’t know. Burning the bonds of brotherhood made him feel soul-sick in a way he couldn’t quite describe, but he understood the need for a boundary, and it settled him back into silence to understand it was not a meaningless platitude. In the meantime he knew he wasn’t allowing himself to feel the brunt of his own pain, but deflection was a familiar compatriot; it was easier to think about others before himself. His own emotions had been weaponised against him plenty of times in his past. It wasn’t a choice to hide. It was a numbness of self-survival: one he couldn’t help.
When tears leaked hot at the corner of his eyes, he only brushed them aside. I’m okay marched through his head like a ragged pennant, but he already knew it for a bitter lie. He winced when Nox smashed his head back against the wall, but didn’t look across. Didn’t trust himself to.
Nox talked about weakness, but Raffe wasn’t strong either. He was aware of the hand placed on the floor between them like a question. He was aware too of his own frailties; knew that if Nox softened the distance between them, he would not protest the comfort. Only he wasn’t sure if it would be in forgiveness or goodbye he reciprocated, and he didn’t want to feel the burdening weight of either. Not when it all felt so raw.
He’d gone quiet again. Insular.
The last words cracked him open, though. He felt the shearing in his chest like a physical pain. If trust was the balm to Nox’s soul, right now it felt like razorblades to Raffe’s. It didn’t feel like something to be lauded; it felt like the height of foolishness. The anguish tightened hoarse in his throat. His hands shielded his face, fingers digging into his scalp. And he sobbed.
He forgave Nox. Didn’t blame him in the first place, or his friend. But he wasn’t so sure he could forgive himself.
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