[That admission sounds hollow, too. Gojyo's stronger than he is that way. Gojyo can pin his heart on his sleeve; Hakkai can hardly bear to let himself glimpse his own. And here they are, Hakkai feeling Gojyo's every pang of misery, Gojyo-- Gojyo not even sure how to see when he doesn't mean his smile.
He'd never learned how not to smile; Gojyo'd learned how to read them. It's his own turn to learn, or give up. The thought scrapes him rawer: he's afraid that it'll hurt them both if he opens up, because it has, every time, it has. And then there's the other fear, that if he relaxes his control, he won't be able to get it back before he's elbow-deep in blood.
Not Gojyo's, at least. Amaterasu's shinki's, probably: he's a little too furious, a little too desperate, to really let go. He knows himself that well.]
I just... [He sounds wrung-out, wounded; he hears it in his own voice, winces, and goes on anyway.]
I can't ask you to like me if you don't. I've never deserved it.
I just wish you'd stop assuming I must be the boss, that I'm arranging everything that happens, that I'm giving everyone but you orders -- stop interpreting everything I say in the most uncharitable possible way.
[He has to stop to catch his breath. He is mad, a little. Mostly he's frustrated, and hurt, and he sounds it.
It's been a long day and it's not even done.]
I wish you'd believe I care about you at least as much as Ayumu does.
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[That admission sounds hollow, too. Gojyo's stronger than he is that way. Gojyo can pin his heart on his sleeve; Hakkai can hardly bear to let himself glimpse his own. And here they are, Hakkai feeling Gojyo's every pang of misery, Gojyo-- Gojyo not even sure how to see when he doesn't mean his smile.
He'd never learned how not to smile; Gojyo'd learned how to read them. It's his own turn to learn, or give up. The thought scrapes him rawer: he's afraid that it'll hurt them both if he opens up, because it has, every time, it has. And then there's the other fear, that if he relaxes his control, he won't be able to get it back before he's elbow-deep in blood.
Not Gojyo's, at least. Amaterasu's shinki's, probably: he's a little too furious, a little too desperate, to really let go. He knows himself that well.]
I just... [He sounds wrung-out, wounded; he hears it in his own voice, winces, and goes on anyway.]
I can't ask you to like me if you don't. I've never deserved it.
I just wish you'd stop assuming I must be the boss, that I'm arranging everything that happens, that I'm giving everyone but you orders -- stop interpreting everything I say in the most uncharitable possible way.
[He has to stop to catch his breath. He is mad, a little. Mostly he's frustrated, and hurt, and he sounds it.
It's been a long day and it's not even done.]
I wish you'd believe I care about you at least as much as Ayumu does.