the things we hold are always the first to go
Smoothing a hand through messy curls and tilting his head back as if that will somehow draw in the emotions that keep spilling out, Ronin inhales a shuddering breath and lets it out again. "I couldn't hate you," he whispers, glancing down at the other man with wet cheeks and eyes that are desperately sad for knowing the truth of their situation. "And I already nearly beat you to death, and that didn't help. I don't... the only thing I want isn't something we can get." He shrugs.
Slumping to sit back on the blanket, his arm stays curled around Remi as if he can gather him up in his lap. "I'm so tired," he whispers as fresh tears track his cheeks. "Aoife died, Seren is just... gone, Mateo barely thinks of us as parents... I never thought I'd end up being such a shitty father."
Slumping to sit back on the blanket, his arm stays curled around Remi as if he can gather him up in his lap. "I'm so tired," he whispers as fresh tears track his cheeks. "Aoife died, Seren is just... gone, Mateo barely thinks of us as parents... I never thought I'd end up being such a shitty father."
