Azula (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
itstillhurt) wrote2022-11-21 01:49 am
itstillhurt) wrote2022-11-21 01:49 amSongerein IC Inbox
Do not waste my time. It is more valuable to me than you are.
itstillhurt) wrote2022-11-21 01:49 am
no subject
Why did you let go?
( His eyes are more cautious than they've ever been with her, before. Fingernails dig into the existing scars of his hand, his breathing slow. Cautious. )
...Why did you push me away, if I didn't do anything wrong?
no subject
[It rips out of her before she can even think about it, harsh and snappish, and she takes a sharp shuddering breath to try to steady herself.
It doesn't help much.]
I attacked you, or did you forget? I broke your leg.
no subject
( It wasn't the same. Wasn't the same as the intentional type of hurt people have inflicted on him. He brings a hand over his own chest as he says this, fingers curling into his shirt. )
Why are you trying to decide whether or not I should be hurt by that?! Isn't that up to me to decide?
no subject
[There it is again. The clenching in her gut. The blurring of her vision. The seething discomfort that nothing ever seemed to-
- She manages not to yell, instead muffling it to a harsh, strained whimper. She's not even conscious that she lurches forward and grabs Shealtiel's shoulder the instant the joint snaps back into place, only realizing once the pain begins to subside that she's clinging to him rather roughly.-
-She doesn't remember making the decision to gently lean against him, pressing her side against his as she cries, but it happens all the same-
-His arms slip around her, bringing with them bewilderment, confusion, shame, but also an inexplicable relief, an odd pang she can't quite place-
...Nearly nothing, then.
"You'll never deserve him."]
Because that's what I do. That's all I've ever done. Hurt people. Defeated them. Conquered them.
[She takes a ragged breath and averts her gaze, if only to hide the traitorous tears that she can't control. Again.
She used to be so good at this. She used to smother these emotions as easily as breathing. Now, she can't even keep her voice from quavering with weakness when she speaks again.]
...made them leave.
no subject
( Shealtiel isn't sure what he's hoping to accomplish with this conversation. Is there even a goal? He's afraid, afraid and emotional, and so he reaches to try and grip Azula's shoulder, desperate for her to understand. )
It hurts more. I'm tired of being alone. I've hurt people before, too, and I know I'm nothing but a burden, but I...
( His voice wavers as he speaks, but his eyes look straight at Azula, not wanting to part. )
I want to work past that! Can't we work through things like this together? Aren't we friends? Can't we be... ( He cuts himself off there, though. )
no subject
Maddening. It was maddening. If she was near him, she'd hurt him. If she stayed away from him, she'd hurt him. She really was incapable of anything else.
And he called himself a burden.]
Why? Why would you want to subject yourself to-
[She stops herself short, wiping at her eyes irritably, not quite able to meet his gaze.]
You've had enough people hurt you in your life, you deserve-
[Kindness.
It sticks in her throat. The sincerity, the vulnerability, it still feels unnatural, still makes every instinct scream at her to hide it, to deny it, to protect the weakness, and she can't even make herself finish the sentence.
Which only proves her point.]
no subject
( Shealtiel is emotional, right now, and so he answers before he can think on it too much. The motion that follows is much the same, him trying to pull her into a hug, to tense as he places hands against her back and rests his chin on her shoulder. )
...And so do you.
( There's a pause, fearful. )
Right?
no subject
You'll never deserve him. Never.
It echoes through her mind, the taunting voice of a petulant child, and she can't unhear it, can't unthink it, can't seem to stop the rising swell of shame and panic, the sudden spike of her heartbeat until it hurts her chest and makes her throat clench, and she tries to keep her breathing even, tries to calm down, tries to ease the desperate terror, to quell the urge to run, to push him away again, to make him understand that he-
'Right?'
... sounds terrified. Not of her, exactly- no, that would be far too reasonable, the fool- he sounds terrified of what she might do or say next.
Ridiculous, ridiculous man.
Angel. Demon. Whatever he was.
She doesn't remember deciding to slip her arms around him in return, clutching tightly to him and burying her face in his shoulder. But she does notice how quickly it seems to drive the anxious panic away. Her breathing seems to come evenly to her again, her heartrate steadying, the tension fleeing her body- except her arms, which still cling to him a little too tightly, a little too urgently, fingers just on the verge of digging into his shoulders.]
no subject
After a moment, he speaks. )
...See? Isn't this fine? ( There's still a trace of fear, even behind the calm, that quiet worry of rejection— but they've come this far. )
Stop worrying about what I should or shouldn't think, what I do or don't deserve. ...Stupid.
( That last word is very soft, very fond. )
no subject
Perhaps if you were less pathetic I wouldn't have to.
[The gently mocking tone, however, slips away a moment later, and her voice sounds shaky again when she adds-]
Don't leave. You can't leave.
[She knows it's demanding, knows she has no right, knows he can't even control it, but it slips out anyway. Childish. Foolish.]