[ He feels Dohalim trying to pull away, and Zephyr tightens his hold that much more. Among the hundreds of fights and thousands of run-ins with death, nothing has backed him into a corner like this. Nothing since he'd taken a certain young woman's hands into his own and spilled — albeit clumsily — everything he'd been holding in his heart. He wasn't that nervous, uncertain boy anymore who was afraid of rejection from the person he'd fallen in love with.
He was a man who'd lost everything simply because he'd been selfish. His selfishness had robbed that same woman of the peace she'd deserved in her final hours. It had cost him the relationship with his son. It drove his son to run away and lead Zephyr to believe the last and only remaining member of his family was dead for so many years.
That same selfishness resulted in robbing a son of his father.
He was selfish. There were so many mistakes born from his selfishness and he'd forever carry the greatest one around until this world decided to send him back to Dahna and to the afterlife he wasn't so sure he deserved. How could he look her in the face after all of this? She would've wanted him to try and find some sort of happiness, and here he was about to let it slip through his fingers.
Dohalim speaks of pity. Of misunderstanding. Apologies and assumptions and questioning what he cares about. He's asking what the problem is, and Zephyr makes a half-strangled sound that dies in his throat. He draws back, and his gaze remains fixed on their hands. The one at his face lowers to reach for Dohalim's opposite one, and he tries to ignore the tremble he sees in his own fingers. When he next speaks, his voice is barely above a murmur. Rough, quiet, and strained. ]
...You can do so much better than me.
[ "Not telling others how much they truly meant to me before it was too late. That is the greatest mistake of my life." ]
You deserve much better than me, Dohalim. You deserve someone who'll be there when you return to Dahna. You deserve more than a ghost who only knew how to fight. I want to be that person for you. I want this — [ He tightens his hold for a moment, and then relaxes his grip before it becomes painful. ] — but I don't know if I've earned that. I-I don't... know if I've even begun to atone for leaving her side when she needed me. What am I going to do when it happens again?
[ Not if. When. Because the only reason he's standing here breathing is because this world allows him. If the rumors are true death isn't permanent, but even so... When he outlives his usefulness to this world, that's it. He'll be a memory and nothing more. ]
I don't care that you're Renan. I care that I might hurt you without meaning to.
no subject
[ He feels Dohalim trying to pull away, and Zephyr tightens his hold that much more. Among the hundreds of fights and thousands of run-ins with death, nothing has backed him into a corner like this. Nothing since he'd taken a certain young woman's hands into his own and spilled — albeit clumsily — everything he'd been holding in his heart. He wasn't that nervous, uncertain boy anymore who was afraid of rejection from the person he'd fallen in love with.
He was a man who'd lost everything simply because he'd been selfish. His selfishness had robbed that same woman of the peace she'd deserved in her final hours. It had cost him the relationship with his son. It drove his son to run away and lead Zephyr to believe the last and only remaining member of his family was dead for so many years.
That same selfishness resulted in robbing a son of his father.
He was selfish. There were so many mistakes born from his selfishness and he'd forever carry the greatest one around until this world decided to send him back to Dahna and to the afterlife he wasn't so sure he deserved. How could he look her in the face after all of this? She would've wanted him to try and find some sort of happiness, and here he was about to let it slip through his fingers.
Dohalim speaks of pity. Of misunderstanding. Apologies and assumptions and questioning what he cares about. He's asking what the problem is, and Zephyr makes a half-strangled sound that dies in his throat. He draws back, and his gaze remains fixed on their hands. The one at his face lowers to reach for Dohalim's opposite one, and he tries to ignore the tremble he sees in his own fingers. When he next speaks, his voice is barely above a murmur. Rough, quiet, and strained. ]
...You can do so much better than me.
[ "Not telling others how much they truly meant to me before it was too late. That is the greatest mistake of my life." ]
You deserve much better than me, Dohalim. You deserve someone who'll be there when you return to Dahna. You deserve more than a ghost who only knew how to fight. I want to be that person for you. I want this — [ He tightens his hold for a moment, and then relaxes his grip before it becomes painful. ] — but I don't know if I've earned that. I-I don't... know if I've even begun to atone for leaving her side when she needed me. What am I going to do when it happens again?
[ Not if. When. Because the only reason he's standing here breathing is because this world allows him. If the rumors are true death isn't permanent, but even so... When he outlives his usefulness to this world, that's it. He'll be a memory and nothing more. ]
I don't care that you're Renan. I care that I might hurt you without meaning to.