I tried to sell my soul last night
Funny, he wouldn't even take a bite
He's such a goddamned idiot. He can't even pretend otherwise right now. Of course she'd never leave him to die. And isn't that the exact fucking problem? Anyone else would have. After everything he'd done, the asshole he'd been, anyone else would've left ages ago, and been entirely justified in doing it.
And that's the idea. So much fucking easier to push everyone away rather than risk getting attached. Because in the end, they'd leave anyway. Whether it was because they died or finally realized he didn't improve with age, they'd inevitably leave. And he'd be left with nothing but the miserable reality of a yawning, empty future, knowing he would never fucking die. Not really.
And so what the hell does he do when she asks? He laughs, like the miserable asshole he is.
He shouldn't answer her. Should let her believe he thought it all some hilarious joke. But goddammit if his mouth doesn't run away from him like usual. "You didn't do a goddamned thing," he bites out, opening his eye to glare at her. "And that's the problem, isn't it? You should've told me to fuck off a century ago."
Abruptly he lurches upright, pulling himself to his feet, mud suctioning from him as he does so. But goddammit, she couldn't touch him like that. Not and expect him to actually do the right fucking thing for once in his life. "I'm the only one who was fucking stupid enough to believe it'd be enough."
