what good is being kind, if she can't help - really help - someone she cares about when he so clearly needs it? bottling up how he's feeling isn't a solution, either. taking each of his hurts and keeping them so close to himself can only hurt him more.
but if he doesn't want to talk about it...
his fingers touch hers, and without thinking, she shifts her hands to catch his, to lace their fingers together. it doesn't comfort her much, and perhaps it doesn't comfort him, either; perhaps he's simply given up on trying to outrun her, and is going to allow her to do as she pleases, regardless of whether it does him any good at all.
she ducks his head, as he does, so that he cannot see the look on her face, either. he's the one suffering, here. he's the one convinced of his own guilt and shame and worthlessness, so why is she the one crying? these tears ought to be his. he ought to be able to let them out and set the guilt free.
but he won't.
so she cries, and maybe it's a foolish thought to think that these are the tears he won't allow himself to shed.]
yin yu would have to be an idiot not to notice. his heart seizes up and drops into his stomach, a boulder somewhere between worry and guilt all at once. he's seen flayn cry once before, and panicked over it then, as much as he is now -- except now it's worse, because he's the one who caused it.
he's at a loss for what to do, for the moment. hands against hers, fingers laced together, he doesn't peek under where her head is down, doesn't surge forward, but -- he doesn't let go, either. and, after a long moment of what's only awkward and uncomfortable and (useless, he's so bad at this, he is so bad) -- his hands slowly squeeze hers. ]
Lady Flayn. [ he says, quietly, squeezing a little tighter, his voice heavy with emotion--yin yu's heart hurts. it hurts for flayn, more than it could ever even begin to hurt for himself. being able to shut off his emotions is his lifeline in the worst of times and the best, and he has never wanted to trouble anyone with his own sad story. to think that not only she saw it, but it upset her, is...
there's a part of him that wants to move forward to do...something, but he can't find the courage, nor does he think he deserves to do so. he knows he shouldn't stare, either, feeling more useless than ever, still teetering on the edge of what had been a fairly disastrous mental breakdown and pulling himself back from the edge. so, he doesn't act in such a way: instead, yin yu frees one of his hands, but just for long enough to find the edge of one of his pouches and pull it open. there's a few scraps of cloth instead, and they're the tie-dyed remains of the sleeves of his camp shirt, but it's as good of a handkerchief as any. ] ...please don't cry.
[ and he means it, sincerely, the concern for her bleeding through above anything else, as he moves to gently press it to the palm of her hand. there's nothing about his story that is worth her tears. ]
[she didn't want him to see. she squeezes his hands in return, though, until he loosens his hold on one of them and presses a scrap of cloth into it instead. her fingers curl around it, and though she keeps one of her hands in his, she brings the makeshift handkerchief up in an attempt to dry her eyes.
he's the one left reeling from that memory - how can he be comforting her now? she's always relying on him, and it feels like she's never able to be someone that he can truly rely on in return.
(if he felt he could rely on her, he wouldn't have run. it's not a fair thought, but it's a thought she can't shake.)]
...you don't have to apologize. [ yin yu mumbles, feeling -- unsure. he's felt this way around flayn more than once, but it's been a long time since it's been quite like this. he shouldn't be here, not when he's made her so upset, not when he's finally showed his true colors.
he can't leave her here crying, though. even if he still wants to run, he stays, letting her hold his hand, because flayn's assessment was correct. yin yu has given up on many things. right now, he's given up on trying to get away, shoving his feelings down to not be dealt with later. he'll let flayn do whatever she wants, if it helps, try to say anything to get her to stop crying, to make her feel better, but, ultimately, it will do nothing for him.
it's been hundreds of years since the incident with yizhen. there is no undoing centuries of self loathing, centuries of guilt. this will be it--he will comfort, and tomorrow, he will try to stay out of her way.
quietly, he lets his other hand drop away, and doesn't say anything else.
yin yu doesn't deserve to be anywhere close to someone like flayn. he's thought it since he got to know her.
the only difference is now, finally, she'll know it too. ]
flayn doesn't realize, yet, just how much it's going to suck. right now, the one hand that yin yu is allowing her to keep holding is a lifeline - she's able to start to calm herself, to wipe the tears away from her eyes, but only because he hasn't fully pulled away.
when that happens...
for now, though, she'll allow herself these few moments with his hand in hers, desperately trying to come up with something to comfort him. she comes up with nothing, except to try and stay near him, but.
that seems like it's more of a comfort to her than to him.
she doesn't know what to do. she just has no idea what to do, so she sits there with him, holding tightly to his hand.]
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fishingforcompliments) wrote2020-06-06 12:53 pm
no subject
what good is being kind, if she can't help - really help - someone she cares about when he so clearly needs it? bottling up how he's feeling isn't a solution, either. taking each of his hurts and keeping them so close to himself can only hurt him more.
but if he doesn't want to talk about it...
his fingers touch hers, and without thinking, she shifts her hands to catch his, to lace their fingers together. it doesn't comfort her much, and perhaps it doesn't comfort him, either; perhaps he's simply given up on trying to outrun her, and is going to allow her to do as she pleases, regardless of whether it does him any good at all.
she ducks his head, as he does, so that he cannot see the look on her face, either. he's the one suffering, here. he's the one convinced of his own guilt and shame and worthlessness, so why is she the one crying? these tears ought to be his. he ought to be able to let them out and set the guilt free.
but he won't.
so she cries, and maybe it's a foolish thought to think that these are the tears he won't allow himself to shed.]
no subject
yin yu would have to be an idiot not to notice. his heart seizes up and drops into his stomach, a boulder somewhere between worry and guilt all at once. he's seen flayn cry once before, and panicked over it then, as much as he is now -- except now it's worse, because he's the one who caused it.
he's at a loss for what to do, for the moment. hands against hers, fingers laced together, he doesn't peek under where her head is down, doesn't surge forward, but -- he doesn't let go, either. and, after a long moment of what's only awkward and uncomfortable and (useless, he's so bad at this, he is so bad) -- his hands slowly squeeze hers. ]
Lady Flayn. [ he says, quietly, squeezing a little tighter, his voice heavy with emotion--yin yu's heart hurts. it hurts for flayn, more than it could ever even begin to hurt for himself. being able to shut off his emotions is his lifeline in the worst of times and the best, and he has never wanted to trouble anyone with his own sad story. to think that not only she saw it, but it upset her, is...
there's a part of him that wants to move forward to do...something, but he can't find the courage, nor does he think he deserves to do so. he knows he shouldn't stare, either, feeling more useless than ever, still teetering on the edge of what had been a fairly disastrous mental breakdown and pulling himself back from the edge. so, he doesn't act in such a way: instead, yin yu frees one of his hands, but just for long enough to find the edge of one of his pouches and pull it open. there's a few scraps of cloth instead, and they're the tie-dyed remains of the sleeves of his camp shirt, but it's as good of a handkerchief as any. ] ...please don't cry.
[ and he means it, sincerely, the concern for her bleeding through above anything else, as he moves to gently press it to the palm of her hand. there's nothing about his story that is worth her tears. ]
no subject
[she didn't want him to see. she squeezes his hands in return, though, until he loosens his hold on one of them and presses a scrap of cloth into it instead. her fingers curl around it, and though she keeps one of her hands in his, she brings the makeshift handkerchief up in an attempt to dry her eyes.
he's the one left reeling from that memory - how can he be comforting her now? she's always relying on him, and it feels like she's never able to be someone that he can truly rely on in return.
(if he felt he could rely on her, he wouldn't have run. it's not a fair thought, but it's a thought she can't shake.)]
no subject
he can't leave her here crying, though. even if he still wants to run, he stays, letting her hold his hand, because flayn's assessment was correct. yin yu has given up on many things. right now, he's given up on trying to get away, shoving his feelings down to not be dealt with later. he'll let flayn do whatever she wants, if it helps, try to say anything to get her to stop crying, to make her feel better, but, ultimately, it will do nothing for him.
it's been hundreds of years since the incident with yizhen. there is no undoing centuries of self loathing, centuries of guilt. this will be it--he will comfort, and tomorrow, he will try to stay out of her way.
quietly, he lets his other hand drop away, and doesn't say anything else.
yin yu doesn't deserve to be anywhere close to someone like flayn. he's thought it since he got to know her.
the only difference is now, finally, she'll know it too. ]
no subject
flayn doesn't realize, yet, just how much it's going to suck. right now, the one hand that yin yu is allowing her to keep holding is a lifeline - she's able to start to calm herself, to wipe the tears away from her eyes, but only because he hasn't fully pulled away.
when that happens...
for now, though, she'll allow herself these few moments with his hand in hers, desperately trying to come up with something to comfort him. she comes up with nothing, except to try and stay near him, but.
that seems like it's more of a comfort to her than to him.
she doesn't know what to do. she just has no idea what to do, so she sits there with him, holding tightly to his hand.]