[L is grateful for the grace, although it's not wholly unexpected. It can never be, with Myr, who has already proven to be so generous and giving where such matters are concerned. How many have warned him, by this point, that L will always be the parasite who takes advantage, will leave him far more cynical and demolished than he found him? Perhaps, by the time L has run his course, Myr will be ruined for helping anyone ever again.
The impulse to part ways suddenly and insist on distance occurs to L. He doesn't want to demolish or ruin Myr, so wouldn't it be the better thing to do, of his bleak array of equally selfish options?
L finishes scooping his spare clothing into the bag. There is some vodka left, sitting vigil on the nightstand. He leaves it, but takes the bottle of pills, handling them carefully so as not to cause them to rattle. This is a decision he can arrive at later, in a moment that is less pressed and pinned.]
I want to tell you something comforting... reassuring.
[He thinks, perhaps vividly enough that Myr can catch notions and glimpses of it through their Bond, of the many times he had in some small way rejected Mello. The attempted kisses that he'd instinctively turned or flinched away from, the efforts at connection that he had rebuffed. Every single instance of spurned resentment in those piercing blue eyes.]
I'm familiar with the plight of the orphan. He's someone with everything to prove, who desires a place in the world that no one can take from him even if he has to fight every moment to defend it. It might have gone differently... but one more denial might have broken him. I suspect there was, in fact, no world where I could have said no.
[Including, unfortunately, a world in which he felt Myr's love and considered Myr's pain. He would still feel bound to choosing the unpleasant to avoid the worst.]
You may think me a coward, but there were others like him. He and I both know their histories... but there are parallels he intentionally blinds himself to. I know what he's capable of and where I can mitigate the inevitable, and I do have to, Myr.
no subject
The impulse to part ways suddenly and insist on distance occurs to L. He doesn't want to demolish or ruin Myr, so wouldn't it be the better thing to do, of his bleak array of equally selfish options?
L finishes scooping his spare clothing into the bag. There is some vodka left, sitting vigil on the nightstand. He leaves it, but takes the bottle of pills, handling them carefully so as not to cause them to rattle. This is a decision he can arrive at later, in a moment that is less pressed and pinned.]
I want to tell you something comforting... reassuring.
[He thinks, perhaps vividly enough that Myr can catch notions and glimpses of it through their Bond, of the many times he had in some small way rejected Mello. The attempted kisses that he'd instinctively turned or flinched away from, the efforts at connection that he had rebuffed. Every single instance of spurned resentment in those piercing blue eyes.]
I'm familiar with the plight of the orphan. He's someone with everything to prove, who desires a place in the world that no one can take from him even if he has to fight every moment to defend it. It might have gone differently... but one more denial might have broken him. I suspect there was, in fact, no world where I could have said no.
[Including, unfortunately, a world in which he felt Myr's love and considered Myr's pain. He would still feel bound to choosing the unpleasant to avoid the worst.]
You may think me a coward, but there were others like him. He and I both know their histories... but there are parallels he intentionally blinds himself to. I know what he's capable of and where I can mitigate the inevitable, and I do have to, Myr.