victory_road | [closed] March Catch All

Me.

[Just, you know. In general. Still, Dimitri lets the cloth be readjusted, thinking how strange it is against the string of his eyepatch.]

I'm still alive... so I do not have a right to complain over this little.

[...Okay, well, that just won't stand.

Grant sets his hands on Dimitri's shoulders.]

Dimitri. What would you think if someone - including myself - said that I didn't have the right to be bothered about my missing eye, because I was alive?

Oh - no.

[Dimitri's brow draws together tightly, and he reaches up to press his palm along Grant's cheek.]

No. No, that should not... You are precious, Grant. It hurt you.

[Grant smiles, slight and sad but present nonetheless, and moves a hand to rest on top of Dimitri's.] That's the thing - so are you. And you might not believe that, but it's how the rest of us feel. It's how I feel.

So, I want you to let yourself talk about things that bother you, that you're upset about. I want... to be able to listen, and help if I can.

I want that too...

[Tentative, uncertain, Dimitri rubs one fingerpad along Grant's cheek.]

I want to help...

[Something about that puts Grant's heart in his throat - though not in a bad way, his chest tight at this most recent reminder of Dimitri's care and dedication. He leans into Dimitri's palm a bit, letting his eye close for a moment as he thinks.

...He guesses he really hasn't told Dimitri all that much about himself, when it comes down to it. Mostly not even out of secrecy, so much as because it hasn't come up, or hasn't felt appropriate to mention under the circumstances.]

...Okay. If I... talk to you about this, can you try to do the same for me?

[Equivalent exchange... Faintly, Dimitri thinks that he and Claude did the same thing, while they were traveling and Claude wanted to ask him about Sylvain. Slowly, Dimitri nods his head.]

Do I keep going? With what I feel?

Mm-hm. [He gives Dimitri's hand a gentle squeeze.] That would be good, if you're okay with going first.

I can go...

[It feels appropriate to go, somehow, although Dimitri feels too tired and fever brain to really explain why it feels appropriate. All he does is try to turn his hand, grip Grant's more appropriately.]

...It was a consequence. You know. Or - you don't, do you?

[Grant adjusts to clasp Dimitri's hand gently between both of his.]

I know... that you were in a dangerous situation back home. Or a series of dangerous situations.

[He's got to be careful here; he wants Dimitri to bring the conversation wherever he wants to, but he's a little worried about getting too deep into how their respective injuries happened. He'll just have to see where this goes.]

It was my fault.

[Dimitri says those four words with a similar kind of certainty to when he and Grant first met, and he talked of other things. Of the dead. Dimitri sinks back against the bed.]

I didn't - I don't think I had to. Grant? I don't... think they are echos.

[Hearing that tone, seeing Dimitri like this... it hurts, a dull pain deep in Grant's chest. But not talking about this isn't going to do anything good for Dimitri, and... it sounds like he might be approaching a painful, but necessary realization. So Grant holds onto his hand and watches him carefully.]

...Do you know what they are?

I...

[Dimitri has to stop, words catching painfully in his throat with a hitch. An area behind his eye is starting to ache, a dull pull.]

...Grant, I do not want to let go.

[Grant nods, and he adjusts so that he can sit next to Dimitri and lean in a little, shoulder to shoulder, still turning enough to keep his hand gently clasped.]

I know. It can be... really painful, accepting someone's gone.

[Apparently, Grant being near is all that Dimitri needs to try and cuddle up against him, head leaning against his shoulder. He just wants to touch someone again.]

[He doesn't want to let go.]

I don't have anything left... Not of him. Them. [He reaches up with his free hand, rubs at his face.] Not really of them. I had Rodrigue. If I didn't have Rodrigue, and Dedue...

[He's not sure what he would have done, honestly.]

[Something terrible, he suspects.]

But I don't have him. Or any of the others. I don't really have anything of his, not really. Not even my home. If I let go of his voice...

[Grant rests his head against Dimitri's in turn, rubbing a thumb gently over Dimitri's fingers while he listens. Anything he can do to comfort him right now.

He doesn't think he recognizes the name Rodrigue... he'll have to find a chance to ask.]

I know, [He repeats softly.] Letting go is bound to hurt. But if that voice was hurting you to begin with... it'll be for the best. [He squeezes Dimitri's hand again.] I'm... so sorry about all this, Dimitri.

It does not feel that way... It only feels as though I will leave the hole completely barren and empty. I would rather have something to fill it, even if it hurts.

[Better rot than nothing at all.]

I don't want to be lonely, Grant.

It will be hard at first.

[He can't argue with that.]

But... that hole can heal over time, if you give it room to. It might not close completely. And it'll still hurt now and then. But, I promise you - even if it doesn't feel that way now, things will get to be better than they have been.

...Things have been better with you. And in Johto.

[Even Dimitri has to admit that. Things have changed, despite the fact that he used to think they never would and never could. Not for something like him.]

I just wish... I could see them again. And apologize... But it...

...It isn't them, is it?

Good... I'm really glad.

[And there is the key, unavoidable question.

Grant shakes his head, just slightly, still leaning against Dimitri, and his voice is soft when he speaks.] ...No.

[He knew it was coming. He knew the answer before Grant spoke it.]

[And yet it still hurts, still makes his eye and the socket burn with tears that want to force themselves out as he takes in a wet, shuddering breath.]

I... Grant.

[He doesn't know what to say, or if the words could get out past the soft choking of air in his throat.]

[There's not much Grant could expect him to say. So, instead, Grant lets go of Dimitri's hand, only to put his arms around him and pull him into a hug.]

I'm so sorry, Dimitri.

[Slowly, Dimitri sinks against Grant's body, until he can curl up against him. It hurts. Why does it always keep hurting? There's a choked out noise in the back of his throat, sharp like a shard of glass where it hits him.]

It shouldn't... I... I did so much for them, I... But it didn't... IT was for...

[It was all for nothing. He wasn't even helping anyone in the end.]

[Grant shushes him gently, combing his fingers through Dimitri's hair, holding him as close as he can as if to block out the rest of the world. There's not much he can say here, no real way to reassure a man who's realizing that he's worn himself down and torn people apart to... no meaningful end. Because of ghosts that weren't even there.

Right now, all he can really do is be here.]

[Dimitri needs little encouragement to cling to Grant, hold onto him tightly. The crying is a little harder, forced and choked out in the clear manner of someone who is honestly trying hard not to cry whether they realize it or not. It's not a pleasant feeling, when he feels sick and fuzzy headed already, and honestly... Sometimes it still feels as though he doesn't deserve to cry.]

[Not with all the things he's done.]

[From where he has his face buried against Grant, Dimitri wheezes in another wet breath.]

...I deserve it... All I did, and only my eye...

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