[The almost desperate contact transitions into a hug, Connor’s readjusted touch making him draw near. And he returns it, an arm looping around the other android’s back, pulling close. Markus’ head lowers into his friend’s shoulder, just breathing for a moment — in the past 24 hours, this has been the most grounded he’s felt. Fingers squeeze gently into his back, and he doesn't speak until his throat loses some of its constriction, able to form words that still sound breathy against the other.]
It was the part of us we chose not to be.
[There’s a Twain quote, some idle part of his imperfect human mind uselessly supplies him. Something about the moon and the sides of men that they don’t show the world; he can’t remember it, when he used to have no trouble remembering much of anything, his mind currently too overwrought with shared emotion, guilt, and relief. But the point of it rings true in this case. They might have lashed out with no inhibitions, they might have said words that would never leave their tongues in normal circumstances, but nothing comes from nothing. All of it, laid upon a foundation until it grew uncontrollable.
They had said things they didn’t mean; Markus still stands by that. But there might have been shards of truth in some of what Connor uttered to him.
His shoulders depress, breathing out a sigh. Guilt isn’t something easily erased in Markus, but at least the coiled tension in his body relaxes, reflected in the empathy bond between them. Finally, after what still seems like too short of a time, he pulls away. Markus removes his hand just so he can drag it across the corners of his eyes, quelling tears before they fall.]
Connor, the things you said… not about arresting me, or the future, but—
no subject
It was the part of us we chose not to be.
[There’s a Twain quote, some idle part of his imperfect human mind uselessly supplies him. Something about the moon and the sides of men that they don’t show the world; he can’t remember it, when he used to have no trouble remembering much of anything, his mind currently too overwrought with shared emotion, guilt, and relief. But the point of it rings true in this case. They might have lashed out with no inhibitions, they might have said words that would never leave their tongues in normal circumstances, but nothing comes from nothing. All of it, laid upon a foundation until it grew uncontrollable.
They had said things they didn’t mean; Markus still stands by that. But there might have been shards of truth in some of what Connor uttered to him.
His shoulders depress, breathing out a sigh. Guilt isn’t something easily erased in Markus, but at least the coiled tension in his body relaxes, reflected in the empathy bond between them. Finally, after what still seems like too short of a time, he pulls away. Markus removes his hand just so he can drag it across the corners of his eyes, quelling tears before they fall.]
Connor, the things you said… not about arresting me, or the future, but—
[Someone like me… I’m not fit for anything else…]
About yourself. Is that how you really feel?