And she had touched it perfectly; his enduring reasoning. The distance slipped, just for a moment--bright fear from a small child fled through his eyes before it was covered again. "You decide where you go..." he repeated slowly, as if weighing the words. The Variant glanced downward for a beat, then looked back up, watching again. Carefully. Curiously.
As if wondering how she will reject him. As if wondering how he would teach her to not do so again.
"And you'll decide," he continued, as if there hadn't been any pause. "You'll decide that a man is what you want, and you'll be charmed by a stranger or a friend, and the time we spend will lessen. In increments at first, barely noticeable, but still there. Moments and time slipping away, and eventually it will be days, weeks, more and more until he is the one you touch with fondness, and he is the one you go to and sit beside."
The monologue held another meaning altogether. Albedo has never spoke on their affection, has never acknowledged when he's cried and she held him. But here, he would call to affection, to habit, to need, and place it before her in uneven strides. Place it before her like she needed to adjust when even he knew--
How this seemed. How it was coming off. He was insane, not crazy. He could follow the trails of instability back to the source.
"You started this," he said, and it seemed almost sad. "I told you I had never had a friend, and you replied with an offer. To be as much a friend as I was to you. No one had ever offered that, Max!"
He hadn't planned to yell, and it showed, the surprise apparent on his face. He touched his mouth as if in shock; all that Albedo said and did was carefully planned, and yet--
His face crumbled, he tried to hold it together through anger. "You'll decide to leave me, in one way or the other, and I can't. Not anymore." He looked up at her, pleading in his gaze. "I can't let go."
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As if wondering how she will reject him. As if wondering how he would teach her to not do so again.
"And you'll decide," he continued, as if there hadn't been any pause. "You'll decide that a man is what you want, and you'll be charmed by a stranger or a friend, and the time we spend will lessen. In increments at first, barely noticeable, but still there. Moments and time slipping away, and eventually it will be days, weeks, more and more until he is the one you touch with fondness, and he is the one you go to and sit beside."
The monologue held another meaning altogether. Albedo has never spoke on their affection, has never acknowledged when he's cried and she held him. But here, he would call to affection, to habit, to need, and place it before her in uneven strides. Place it before her like she needed to adjust when even he knew--
How this seemed. How it was coming off. He was insane, not crazy. He could follow the trails of instability back to the source.
"You started this," he said, and it seemed almost sad. "I told you I had never had a friend, and you replied with an offer. To be as much a friend as I was to you. No one had ever offered that, Max!"
He hadn't planned to yell, and it showed, the surprise apparent on his face. He touched his mouth as if in shock; all that Albedo said and did was carefully planned, and yet--
His face crumbled, he tried to hold it together through anger. "You'll decide to leave me, in one way or the other, and I can't. Not anymore." He looked up at her, pleading in his gaze. "I can't let go."