you've long seen your downfall, spelled out in another's bones
Ronin wishes he could say something to tie it all in a neat little bow, to fix the loop they're talking in and to find the exit for them to skip down like some yellow brick road. Alas, all he can do is offer his husband a gentle squeeze of his hands and a sad smile. "I do feel better for having this conversation with you," he mumbles, though the words are said mostly to the Bastion's knees. "I'm sorry it took so long to say." And he always would be, despite the justifications (some of them very arguably valid) for keeping quiet.
Who knows - maybe this is the first step towards healing that last chip on his shoulder, though it'll be a long time before Ronin even realises he's taken it, if so. "You know I still love you though," he says after a few beats of silence, his right? unspoken but there in his tone. "That hasn't changed. It never will."
Who knows - maybe this is the first step towards healing that last chip on his shoulder, though it'll be a long time before Ronin even realises he's taken it, if so. "You know I still love you though," he says after a few beats of silence, his right? unspoken but there in his tone. "That hasn't changed. It never will."
RONIN