BRIGADE
Her own thoughts could have been an echo of his own.
How often had he stalked the woods of Beqanna, reminding himself that he was simply not designed to be part of a relationship. He was not meant to connect with others and he certainly wasn’t meant to be loved. It was better if he simply kept to himself. It was better if he guarded others from himself, even if they didn’t understand why. There was no reason for them to know about the depths of his selfish heart, for them to understand just how greedy he could be—how he would gladly destroy something he loved.
Better that they don’t see the cowardice beneath it all.
Better that they don’t unpack the hurt and the anger and the million negative things that make him him.
But she doesn’t leave when he knows that she should. She remains stubbornly rooted. The same mare who had just minutes before been cutting him down to size now defending him against himself. He finds that he prefers the caustic side of her tongue and shuts his grey eyes against the words. It was too difficult to see her try to soothe him, to try and walk back the horrible things that he has done and hasn’t done.
“You have no idea,” he manages, voice thick, throat tight. He presses his lips together before he finally opens his eyes again, trying desperately to pull back on his mask, trying to keep his face impassive. But it falters when her eyes catch his, when her breath catches, and he hates himself—loathes himself.
He wants to reach out and touch her.
Selfishly wants to keep her close.
But looking at her face, so beautiful underneath the bitterness, he realizes he can’t. He shouldn’t. It stings and he is still for a second, fighting against the urge to simply defy her warnings and let himself burn. His mind whirls, wondering at how she must hate herself, at how she would hate him. “You’re right,” he finally manages and he takes a step back, dragging open the space between them again, even though everything within him says that he should be closer and not further away. “What’s the point in trying?”
It’s cruel and mostly aimed at himself as he looks way, biting the inside of his cheek.
When he looks back, his face is carved from granite once more.
the world was on fire and no one could save me but you
it's strange what desire will make foolish people do
