(connor's conflicted. letting markus pull that chair so near to his bedside is risky when he's doped up and vulnerable to emotions he wants to suppress, but pushing him away with a request for him to move back would be another regret to add to his insurmountable pile. it's a waste of time worrying about it — connor knows he's going to snap like a dry twig, but, regardless, tries to resist.
he's looking at the extent of damage, eyes ringed red drifting from one contusion to the next. looking at him is another challenge altogether, afraid to. despite markus' words, what he thinks he'll find there is the same expression he wore in the bar when he locked down and said all of those awful, inexcusable things to him. how could he?
shifting, chin tilting up and away before he's able to dredge up the courage, connor glances over, off to the side, then back with a grim press of lips.)
I don't know, no, no, I'm not. Markus, I'm — so sorry. (it's blurted out like it's a breath he'd been holding in — that's not too far from the reality of it, having crushed down as much as he could for as long as he could. but noctis tore that dam's walls down so totally, all of the pent-up frustrations with himself and his situation pouring out of it unfiltered. connor doesn't know whether to find more shame in it or let himself experience the post-breakdown relief that's leftover when there's nothing left to drain. he's so tired that he couldn't resist if he tried. it has to be the latter.
raising a hand to shield his eyes in an effort to protect markus from the feelings of culpability he'll add to the world he already carries, connor's shoulders curve forward on his first ragged sob.)
no subject
he's looking at the extent of damage, eyes ringed red drifting from one contusion to the next. looking at him is another challenge altogether, afraid to. despite markus' words, what he thinks he'll find there is the same expression he wore in the bar when he locked down and said all of those awful, inexcusable things to him. how could he?
shifting, chin tilting up and away before he's able to dredge up the courage, connor glances over, off to the side, then back with a grim press of lips.)
I don't know, no, no, I'm not. Markus, I'm — so sorry. (it's blurted out like it's a breath he'd been holding in — that's not too far from the reality of it, having crushed down as much as he could for as long as he could. but noctis tore that dam's walls down so totally, all of the pent-up frustrations with himself and his situation pouring out of it unfiltered. connor doesn't know whether to find more shame in it or let himself experience the post-breakdown relief that's leftover when there's nothing left to drain. he's so tired that he couldn't resist if he tried. it has to be the latter.
raising a hand to shield his eyes in an effort to protect markus from the feelings of culpability he'll add to the world he already carries, connor's shoulders curve forward on his first ragged sob.)
I'm so sorry.