A sound rips itself from Anduin, despite himself -- of pain. Of frustration. He can feel, humiliatingly, the fresh burn of tears in the corners of his eyes and he turns away for a moment so he can at least spare Wrathion seeing that. He knows he is falling apart in front of him, and that had not been his intention, in opening himself up to try and explain all of this.
He had meant to lay it all out, so that Wrathion might understand. He does not mean to raise his voice, does not mean to get so emotional that he cannot control the words that are now seemingly pouring from his mouth. It's just that...
It hurts.
There is a chasm, somewhere deep within Anduin's chest, and it is shaped like loss. There is no telling when it had formed -- there are so many instances he could name. So many people he has lost, and with each fresh cut the damage has spread until now what is left in its wake is a wide, gaping wound that even with his healing skills he has no chance of mending it. Not on his own.
Not when Wrathion stands across from him like that and he can see the dragon withdrawing from him even as he refuses to make him -- not even a promise. He had not even asked that much, and still it is refused.
Not when there is a hole in his heart and it is so difficult for Anduin to tell whether it is because Wrathion has put it there, or if it is because he misses him -- what they were. What they used to be together, when he knows of what could be, if only...
If only...
Anduin swipes a hand across his eyes and turns quickly on his heel, back toward his companion, taking one, two quick steps to close the distance between them, reaching out -- intent to grip him by the arm. He needs to make him see, make him understand.
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He had meant to lay it all out, so that Wrathion might understand. He does not mean to raise his voice, does not mean to get so emotional that he cannot control the words that are now seemingly pouring from his mouth. It's just that...
It hurts.
There is a chasm, somewhere deep within Anduin's chest, and it is shaped like loss. There is no telling when it had formed -- there are so many instances he could name. So many people he has lost, and with each fresh cut the damage has spread until now what is left in its wake is a wide, gaping wound that even with his healing skills he has no chance of mending it. Not on his own.
Not when Wrathion stands across from him like that and he can see the dragon withdrawing from him even as he refuses to make him -- not even a promise. He had not even asked that much, and still it is refused.
Not when there is a hole in his heart and it is so difficult for Anduin to tell whether it is because Wrathion has put it there, or if it is because he misses him -- what they were. What they used to be together, when he knows of what could be, if only...
If only...
Anduin swipes a hand across his eyes and turns quickly on his heel, back toward his companion, taking one, two quick steps to close the distance between them, reaching out -- intent to grip him by the arm. He needs to make him see, make him understand.
"For pity's sake, Wrathion! Must I --"