[But then he stops, immediate and silent, like he's been slapped — or perhaps, more accurately, like he's just startled himself stunned with that outburst, which it turns out that he has. The look on his face certainly reflects it: a flash of alarm chased by wide eyes and a tremor at the corners of his mouth, and all of a sudden he doesn't want to be flying anymore.
But he's holding tight, too tight, as they descend. He's caught in a juxtaposition then, of fear and guilt — that so long as they're in the air, he's coercing Polnareff to rely on him on some level, yet if he doesn't keep holding on, then Polnareff might be all too happy to get away from him.
It's irrational. He knows it's wrong, and stupid, and wholly irrational. But all of a sudden he's panicked and scared and awful, and it probably says something positive that Polnareff is the only one who's yet managed to dig all of that out of him from how deep he'd buried it inside, but that doesn't make it any more pleasant to contend with once it's out.
So they descend, careful and slow, and he finds a place to sit and he puts Polnareff down next to him, side by side, where he can huddle more than sit and lean if he likes and pull his knees up and wish vaguely that the fog would part and let sunlight roll over him and just turn him to stone for a long, long while.]
...
I didn't...
[He swallows hard.]
If you want me to go just say it and I'll go.
[No. Stupid. That wasn't even what he meant, why is that what came out? Why would Polnareff ever tell him something like that, why would he even entertain for a second the notion that he would? Why?]
no subject
[But then he stops, immediate and silent, like he's been slapped — or perhaps, more accurately, like he's just startled himself stunned with that outburst, which it turns out that he has. The look on his face certainly reflects it: a flash of alarm chased by wide eyes and a tremor at the corners of his mouth, and all of a sudden he doesn't want to be flying anymore.
But he's holding tight, too tight, as they descend. He's caught in a juxtaposition then, of fear and guilt — that so long as they're in the air, he's coercing Polnareff to rely on him on some level, yet if he doesn't keep holding on, then Polnareff might be all too happy to get away from him.
It's irrational. He knows it's wrong, and stupid, and wholly irrational. But all of a sudden he's panicked and scared and awful, and it probably says something positive that Polnareff is the only one who's yet managed to dig all of that out of him from how deep he'd buried it inside, but that doesn't make it any more pleasant to contend with once it's out.
So they descend, careful and slow, and he finds a place to sit and he puts Polnareff down next to him, side by side, where he can huddle more than sit and lean if he likes and pull his knees up and wish vaguely that the fog would part and let sunlight roll over him and just turn him to stone for a long, long while.]
...
I didn't...
[He swallows hard.]
If you want me to go just say it and I'll go.
[No. Stupid. That wasn't even what he meant, why is that what came out? Why would Polnareff ever tell him something like that, why would he even entertain for a second the notion that he would? Why?]
...No, I'm...
[He's. What? A mess? Fucked up? Wrong?]
...sorry.