[ Gaelio's never yelled at him like that before, never spoken to him like that before -- he remains unrecognizable, for the most part. The sky shatters with his voice, then chatters in alarm. Despite knowing what he's done to deserve it, he's not entirely sure what to do next, other than to curl tighter into himself. Everything gets a little colder, around them, within him.
What's left to do other than accept that they weren't meant to be?
Only, if he moves, either away from him or towards him, he has the sense that it would only provoke Gaelio further. If he speaks his mind further, on this topic or the other, he anticipates another poor response. McGillis grows quiet in the wake of those replies, a silence that stretches out.
Didn't ask him.
Wouldn't he be the one to ask?
Shouldn't he be the one -- but, no, his version of what happens doesn't matter. Only their version matters. There's no way to overcome that, or to create something new to replace it. Something beautiful to outshine it. To believe otherwise, even for a second, is too stupid a thought to stomach. It nearly makes him want to retch; vision spotting, he takes a shaky breath. In the blink of an eye, it becomes clear to him -- in front of him is a stretch of road that promises no change.
Nothing changes.
It's an acute realization that pricks sharp. His life hasn't changed all that much since coming here. Even his friendship with Gaelio won't change, except to take a turn for the worst possible ending. McGillis loosens his hold on himself, limbs going slack, feeling himself slip under, into the warm tide.
There's no need to fight it anymore. Here's the new truth, worlds upending: someone important to him will benefit from it if he ceases treading water. ]
Listen, Gaelio... I thought of something. An answer for the both of us.
[ And it's bliss, caked into a light-headed voice. Allow exhaustion to overtake, and like magic, blood filling his mouth and pooling at the corners. He swipes at the liquid when it starts to drop from his chin. A soft, delirious smile, directed at his palm. How warm these dreams become sometimes.
That same look, directed at Gaelio when he turns his head. ]
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What's left to do other than accept that they weren't meant to be?
Only, if he moves, either away from him or towards him, he has the sense that it would only provoke Gaelio further. If he speaks his mind further, on this topic or the other, he anticipates another poor response. McGillis grows quiet in the wake of those replies, a silence that stretches out.
Didn't ask him.
Wouldn't he be the one to ask?
Shouldn't he be the one -- but, no, his version of what happens doesn't matter. Only their version matters. There's no way to overcome that, or to create something new to replace it. Something beautiful to outshine it. To believe otherwise, even for a second, is too stupid a thought to stomach. It nearly makes him want to retch; vision spotting, he takes a shaky breath. In the blink of an eye, it becomes clear to him -- in front of him is a stretch of road that promises no change.
Nothing changes.
It's an acute realization that pricks sharp. His life hasn't changed all that much since coming here. Even his friendship with Gaelio won't change, except to take a turn for the worst possible ending. McGillis loosens his hold on himself, limbs going slack, feeling himself slip under, into the warm tide.
There's no need to fight it anymore. Here's the new truth, worlds upending: someone important to him will benefit from it if he ceases treading water. ]
Listen, Gaelio... I thought of something. An answer for the both of us.
[ And it's bliss, caked into a light-headed voice. Allow exhaustion to overtake, and like magic, blood filling his mouth and pooling at the corners. He swipes at the liquid when it starts to drop from his chin. A soft, delirious smile, directed at his palm. How warm these dreams become sometimes.
That same look, directed at Gaelio when he turns his head. ]
I can save you from him.
[ And save him too. ]