[ Nobody will mourn him. Nobody should mourn him. Gen knows how he’ll die, because that hasn’t changed one bit from the very beginning. He’s always known that he’ll slowly crumble while doing exactly what he’s been expected to do — an entirely unglamorous, unceremonious, dull way of dying.
But that’s not what he says.
He’d been permitting that slow (admittedly soothing) rub at his chest — a different sort of intimacy than he’s used to, chaste and gentle and initiated without goading — but Gen touches at Set’s wrist after a few moments. Pulls it away from his chest to look at it. Lets his fingers slide across the back of his hand, against chafed skin and raised tendons, until he feels those bitemarks where they’ve dimpled red against Set’s fingers.
He looks at those, instead of meeting Set’s gaze, when he speaks. ]
That’s cruel. [ He laughs, but it’s a far cry from the usual harsh, sneering way he usually laughs. There’s something far more honest in the brief, quiet melancholy of it. ] I’ve been holding on this long by myself and you want me to die by myself, too? [ A sigh. ] … at least when I die, I’m dragging everything down with me.
[ Perhaps surprisingly, the undercurrent of spite in those words isn’t anywhere near as strong as the suffocating drag of loneliness.
Another slow exhale before Gen digs a nail into one of those bite marks, furrowing it in deeper. A very deliberate move as he asks, quietly, ]
Or, what. Are you gonna die with me, if I asked? [ He looks up now as he continues to dig his nail in, grasping tighter at Set’s hand. ] If this rude, annoying, rotten son of a bitch asked you to die, exclusively for him, and for nobody else — for no other reason — would you say yes?
[ He knows the answer is no. Set had something to live for and a place to return to, even if it’s just for a promise and a duty. But just by virtue of those factors, Set can’t be what he’s looking for — no matter how enticing that offer of unconditional understanding is, no matter how much a part of him wants to wallow in those endless, heady, warm expanses of sand in the landscape of Set’s mind. Gen already knows this, and so he doesn’t wait for an answer before dipping his gaze once more — pulling his nail back and rubbing the pad of his thumb against the sore crescent-moon mark he’s left. ]
… if I could get that, then maybe I could’ve been whatever it is Meridian expects of me. But I can’t get that, so I won’t. There’s no place for me there. You get it now, right?
no subject
But that’s not what he says.
He’d been permitting that slow (admittedly soothing) rub at his chest — a different sort of intimacy than he’s used to, chaste and gentle and initiated without goading — but Gen touches at Set’s wrist after a few moments. Pulls it away from his chest to look at it. Lets his fingers slide across the back of his hand, against chafed skin and raised tendons, until he feels those bitemarks where they’ve dimpled red against Set’s fingers.
He looks at those, instead of meeting Set’s gaze, when he speaks. ]
That’s cruel. [ He laughs, but it’s a far cry from the usual harsh, sneering way he usually laughs. There’s something far more honest in the brief, quiet melancholy of it. ] I’ve been holding on this long by myself and you want me to die by myself, too? [ A sigh. ] … at least when I die, I’m dragging everything down with me.
[ Perhaps surprisingly, the undercurrent of spite in those words isn’t anywhere near as strong as the suffocating drag of loneliness.
Another slow exhale before Gen digs a nail into one of those bite marks, furrowing it in deeper. A very deliberate move as he asks, quietly, ]
Or, what. Are you gonna die with me, if I asked? [ He looks up now as he continues to dig his nail in, grasping tighter at Set’s hand. ] If this rude, annoying, rotten son of a bitch asked you to die, exclusively for him, and for nobody else — for no other reason — would you say yes?
[ He knows the answer is no. Set had something to live for and a place to return to, even if it’s just for a promise and a duty. But just by virtue of those factors, Set can’t be what he’s looking for — no matter how enticing that offer of unconditional understanding is, no matter how much a part of him wants to wallow in those endless, heady, warm expanses of sand in the landscape of Set’s mind. Gen already knows this, and so he doesn’t wait for an answer before dipping his gaze once more — pulling his nail back and rubbing the pad of his thumb against the sore crescent-moon mark he’s left. ]
… if I could get that, then maybe I could’ve been whatever it is Meridian expects of me. But I can’t get that, so I won’t. There’s no place for me there. You get it now, right?