[ That crashing wave of guilt catches him off-guard, his whole body tensing as if to withstand a physical attack and not simply an assault on his mind. He doesn't even realize his nails have curled so tightly into the flesh of his palms until he tastes the scent of blood in the air, faint and metallic.
This is none of his business, this violent soul-crushing guilt that surrounds him on all sides like a typhoon. He should have left ages ago, turned around and done what he does best - walk away without a second glance back. But he's already come this far, sunk his teeth deep in enough that letting go would be a monumental waste of time. Besides, what's he supposed to do? Leave Dokja there all alone, stranded in the middle of this raging ocean without a single life-preserver in sight?
They have their differences, sure, too many to count, and sometimes it seems like all they do is fight. But even despite that Dokja had stretched out his hand time and again without being asked, even though every logical reason in the world dictated he do the opposite. There's a deep debt between them that needs to be repaid, but beyond that is the burgeoning seed of respect, a like beginning to outweigh dislike that prompts him into trying to help, no matter how out of his element he is.
Even if that 'help' right now is aiming a knife directly at his heart and carving until every last drop of guilt and misery comes oozing out, like pus from an infected wound.
It's hard to hold his ground, the unfiltered agony feeding directly into his own worst insecurites and fears, but he grits his teeth all the same, channeling years of practice into keeping his emotions and tone stable. ]
If I....?
[ He can theorize all he wants, try and puzzle together the pieces he's painstakingly collected over the last half a year. But it won't mean anything if he doesn't hear it directly from Dokja. ]
no subject
This is none of his business, this violent soul-crushing guilt that surrounds him on all sides like a typhoon. He should have left ages ago, turned around and done what he does best - walk away without a second glance back. But he's already come this far, sunk his teeth deep in enough that letting go would be a monumental waste of time. Besides, what's he supposed to do? Leave Dokja there all alone, stranded in the middle of this raging ocean without a single life-preserver in sight?
They have their differences, sure, too many to count, and sometimes it seems like all they do is fight. But even despite that Dokja had stretched out his hand time and again without being asked, even though every logical reason in the world dictated he do the opposite. There's a deep debt between them that needs to be repaid, but beyond that is the burgeoning seed of respect, a like beginning to outweigh dislike that prompts him into trying to help, no matter how out of his element he is.
Even if that 'help' right now is aiming a knife directly at his heart and carving until every last drop of guilt and misery comes oozing out, like pus from an infected wound.
It's hard to hold his ground, the unfiltered agony feeding directly into his own worst insecurites and fears, but he grits his teeth all the same, channeling years of practice into keeping his emotions and tone stable. ]
If I....?
[ He can theorize all he wants, try and puzzle together the pieces he's painstakingly collected over the last half a year. But it won't mean anything if he doesn't hear it directly from Dokja. ]