[ how was he? shoyo shows off no indication that he’s alright, or okay, or better than he was before. he can’t pull off a smile for once. his brows strain and his eyes are unfocused, downcast, his lips start to quiver as his gut feels the absolute worst tumble downward like throwing an anchor out to sea. his palms feel clammy, and it’s only after he tries to rub his temple that he realizes he’s beginning to cold sweat: little beads of viscous, slimy fluid that group into the smallest pinch of sea suds.
he doesn’t know how to keep his nervousness from escalating. it just keeps crawling up, and up until it’s tangling his neck and feels asphyxiating. ]
I’m not, [ the tremble in his voice hoists into a squeak, and that’s all he really manages to say as he finds a place to sit down. the floor was fine. as long as he didn’t feel as lightheaded. ] better.
[Shoyo suddenly sinking to the ground like that is more than a little startling, enough that Basil quickly sinks down to crouch beside him. He doesn't mind being on the ground, honestly more comforted by the earth than anything else. It's cool against his scales- as most things generally are- though he keeps his hands to himself for the time being, unsure if Shoyo wants him too near or not.]
[ shoyo can’t look at him even as the gargoyle steeps close to his side. any other moment and he would’ve liked to reach for a hug, his shoulder to lean on, like that day— ]
Something . . . Awful happened. [ it wasn’t a matter of being able or even comfortable to tell basil. it was about honesty and respect. it was about transparency and salvaging a string of friendships he feels could be rocked to the core. ] I need to tell you— And I need you to be honest, with— with how you’ll feel about it.
[ the last thing he wishes to do is sit around people who’d be uncomfortable with him there going forward.
at the last second, he has doubts if he’s even ready to say anything, but it’s too late to go back. he has to move forward. ahead. to shake this off. he inhales, swallows a gulp that feels dry and answers the same way: with a parched crack from his throat. ]
[As Shoyo speaks, as his words sink in...Basil feels as if an invisible force is pulling him deeper into the ground. Some sort of otherworldy tug, threatening to bury him. Because Shoyo...whatever this is, it sounds serious. And given what's happened recently?
Basil has immediate reason to worry.
He tries not to wring his hands, because he doesn't want his anxiousness to show...but it probably shows in his expression anyway, and the way his ears droop low.]
[ shoyo breathes in; it’s deep, but it comes out shaken and uneven. he doesn’t know how to control his breathing beyond the obvious, and that hasn’t been enough. the iciness in his gut only spreads, making him feel all the more desolate as he forces his eyes to look up. eye to eye. he can’t keep them hiding from basil. he doesn’t seem to know, thus max hadn’t told him.
he deserves to know from shoyo, the cause, not from the victim. ]
That dream— wasn’t a dream. With the doors, and everyone stuck— it was real.
[ and that may have been obvious, now. that something did happen with the lot of them, but not the way shoyo had described, or even taken the first time. when the kelpie realizes it’s time to add, his voice cracks, chokes. if only his glow, like a nightlight, could’ve been comforting. but it only served as a grim reminder. ]
And what I remembered, saving Max, and having fun in the pool, it wasn’t . . . It’s not true. I made it up— [ that sounds like he lied about it, and quite hurriedly does he add: ] Not, not on purpose, my brain, [ he gestures to his head in hopes of making sense, his features beginning to twist painfully. the shake in his voice becomes far more audible— like a lonely, weak little twig exposed to the wind. ] made it up.
[ that in itself had been scary to him, made him feel like he absolutely lost it, broke apart, wasn’t the same. but worse than the horror of what had happened, no. it haunts him every hour of the day. ]
[Basil, true to his word, listens to what Shoyo has to say. And...though he doesn't want to admit as much exactly, he had his suspicions going off his description and what he later learned about the doors that it wasn't a dream. It couldn't be, not when there were reports of people getting dragged in there left and right. But he doesn't think that Shoyo lied to him about it either, which is confirmed as the Kelpie continues to explain. He just...blocked it out.
Just like Sunny.
It's a very grimly familiar scenario that makes Basil's heartrate pick up, and for a moment he has to focus on not letting his body get too hot. Not only could he ruin his greenhouse, but he could really hurt Shoyo, if he isn't careful. Even still, he might feel little waves of heat coming off Basil's scales, like a space-heater you just turned on. All the more reason not to get too close.]
[ it was coming. the burning in his nose. the squeeze in his throat that felt like he was getting choked, swallowed, maddened— like it was going to drag him down into a blackened pit he'd never be able to climb out of. the tears prick and come before shoyo gives an audible signal. he's deathly silent for a moment that becomes two, three, then gives way for a wet, painful sob.
he's been waking up from his naps the same way. the heat that burned so close to him was warm, but not inviting. he had to say it. there was nothing else to walk around, or explain, detail by detail— what matters is what really happened, and with a sharp inhale, he squeaks out: ]
I, [ in his odd little frenzy, in his quest for companionship disguised as the need for a meal, he became opportune. he saved her from miles' jaws only to have her life force end up in his. ] killed Max.
[ it felt like a bomb had dropped and wiped everything out. he said it, but his shoulders didn't feel lighter, and neither did his conscience. it made the weight of remorse heavier. remembering it, seeing it all again within his mind's eye—
and every time he remembers it, he remembers what the energy tasted like, and it was unlike any elation a simple solid meal could provide. it was so much more. it was intimate and raw, it was her— he hates it. he hates it so much that he loved it. through his hics and babbles, shoyo snorts wet and awful: ]
W-we talked, and— we're trying, to figure it out, [ but what they all expected, what shoyo had felt and what sherlock had strengthened in words was that things won't ever really be the same again. not with max, and probably not with basil. he's scared, but he feels so selfish, feeling scared. ] I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, [ but no amount of his heart bleeding with fix the mess, not even make it look cleaner. ] but it was me, and— I'll be alright, with . . . W-whatever, you want to do.
[Some part, deep down, Basil knew. He knew that something terrible must have happened in that place. He couldn't possibly know what, not the exact details anyway...but what Shoyo had told him compared to what he learned simply didn't add up. And the one thing keeping Basil from feeling totally betrayed is the fact that Shoyo hadn't meant to lie to him about it on purpose. His memories...had been twisted. His mind warped, trauma forcing him to make up a narrative instead of giving the truth.
He can't possibly blame Shoyo for that. He'd be a hypocrite if he did.
Yet still, to know the real truth is to realize that things absolutely are not okay. That the reason Basil has been suffering sleepless nights, crying in his bed terrified that Max would never come home, is sitting right in front of him.
Everything is going to be okay, he'd said that night. He'd held Sunny's hand tightly in his, so tight it made his fingers numb, marching him back towards the house even though they'd both made the mistake of looking back anyway. It had been his responsibility to fix everything, and in doing so, he'd ruined lives. The apologies hit his ears and yet, Basil can only focus on the way Shoyo is breaking down in front of him, clearly still mortified by what he'd done, intentional or not.
He thinks Basil will hate him now, rightfully so. That he's lost a friend as well, on top of everything else. And for a long moment where Basil says nothing at all, poor Shoyo has nothing to really go on but his own idea of what might be happening.
Then, Basil leans forward, just a fraction. His body is still warm but not scalding as he brings up the claws of his right hand, gently wiping the tears off Shoyo's cheek. It does very little, given how heavily and hard he's crying, and the heat causes the wetness to sizzle briefly before Basil thinks better of trying more and pulls away. Because he, too, is starting to cry. He can feel the tears welling up, whiskers trembling as he breathes in too deep.]
[ shoyo doesn’t exactly flinch, but his surprise is evident in the way both his ears and eyes flip sideways to lang on basil. he can’t exactly keep still with his huffing and sniveling, but he doesn’t jerk away. he just . . .
watches basil with unblinking, swollen eyes, pained and mourning. ]
I did. [ not meaning to would have been killing her against his will. he may have not wanted to act like that now, but he still did. and that didn’t change the fact that his intention then had been what it was. if he had to do anything, with all of his respect toward max, and basil? is to not take that tempting, easy way out that seemed promising to balm the pain involving it. he had to man up and own it. ] I was so . . . Lonely, I wanted— I wanted her, t-to stay, with me.
[ he wasn’t trying to throw his blame anywhere, just— he didn’t know. an explanation was warranted to answer what happened? somehow. ]
And that’s . . . H-how I eat.
[ but he only found out after max had him remember. ]
...I know. I mean...you...you didn't hurt her because you wanted to. You weren't...trying to hurt her.
[He just...was compelled to. To keep her with him. Literally.
That's what Basil has to believe. He can't fathom a world in which Shoyo would hurt someone intentionally, maliciously. And for that, well...he can't say he isn't upset at all, because the hurt is showing in his eyes and the way he holds himself. But he couldn't possibly hate him for it either, not given all the circumstances that have led them to this point.]
You. You said you and Max were...talking about it?
[ some things that shoyo expected were there— that upset. that sadness and discomfort, but anger or rejection just. wasn't . . . there. shoyo's eyes trail the dim glowing green that scales up his arms, and at last, settles on the gargoyle.
he doesn't know until what point he's deserving of this amount of understanding, or effort to instead of just— pushing him away. it felt like the most obvious answer. maybe the easiest reaction and he's not seeing it. ]
We— talked. She reminded me. But . . . [ it hadn't extended much beyond the truth, and two lost children lacking in ideas to do much of anything beyond tears and fears. not even shoyo knew, yet. there were more things he didn't remember from the backrooms. ] We need more time, to figure it out. She . . . Needs time.
[ as much as she ]
I want to talk again— when she feels better to. [ shoyo sucks his lips into his mouth, canines pinching the skin from above. even if he raw eyes feel stingy and heavy, tears no longer fall; they've stained his cheeks enough, and what's left of them are abrupt little jolts from his shoulders as his lungs hiccup. ] I just wish I could . . . do something.
[ but it's frustrating that he comes up blank every damn time. ]
[Basil imagines that Shoyo must have expected far worse. He expected Basil to hate him for hurting someone so close to him, and...he's not wrong for thinking that. But Basil is a kid with a soft heart, and his capacity for anger- while absolutely there- needs a catalyst. And while Max dying is certainly plenty enough to be one, there are circumstances here that make it a bit more complicated than that. Never mind how much this reminds him of that time, way back when...
The Gargoyle swallows against the dryness in his mouth, wrapping his tail tight around his legs. He hates this, not just for Max, but for Shoyo too. And while it's something of a relief to finally know what happened, he...also feels burdened by it. It's knowledge he almost wishes he didn't have.]
...that...that's what matters most to me right now. That you listen to her, and do things at her pace. Which...it sounds like you're doing.
But— [ that's what matters to me most. was an angel speaking to him? it was too much mercy, he almost didn't know what to do with it. shoyo reels his knees in close to his chest, keeping his hands balled between those. there isn't a moment where he doesn't feel his throat tight and hot with stinging. ] How do you feel? I need— I need to know, how you feel.
[How does he feel? That part...is a little trickier, but he wants to be honest. And he will be, taking a slow breath before he answers.]
I'm...a little upset you didn't tell me the truth, but that...I know that wasn't your fault. You didn't lie on purpose.
[Unlike some people-]
And I...wish you didn't hurt Max. But I can't take it back now that it's already happened. ...I think I would have felt different if...you guys fought or something, and you hurt her on purpose to be mean...you know?
[ he wished it wasn't him. he wished it never happened. i didn't know, shoyo tells himself in the comfort (or not) of his own thoughts, too. maybe a part of him knew something was wrong, but— it was so painful to remember. almost too painful. it felt like there was something more being torn from him when he did. torn and crushed and smeared all over the place. for basil to understand that was . . . a miracle he wasn't expecting, and something stronger than relief washes down his shoulders like a cascade. it didn't mean things were lighter, actually— he still felt the weight of it. harsh and beating on his back. ]
I'd never . . . I, [ his lips feel dry, and so does his mouth when he holds his breath back. before he could see himself exhaling, he was already saying it. ] love you guys.
[ his eyes feel like they'll stay watery permanently. they are such simple words, yet deeply profound. people need to hear it more, say it more, it didn't matter if he only knew them since may. they were his friends and he's attached himself to their existence like the lifeline he had in ryslig. basil was just the first to hear it. ]
[Maybe if Basil were a different person, with different experiences, he would not have been so willing to forgive Shoyo for what he'd done. He won't forget, make no mistake...and if this happens again, things will likely be less easy, assuming you could say that they are at all. But...he knows what it feels like, to be out of control. To not fully understand even yourself why you're doing something, just that you're doing it, and there's nothing stopping you.
He understands that all too well.
Basil's eyes widen, and for a moment, the admission leaves him speechless. Back home, Basil lost all of his friends. His entire friend group splintered and broke apart, leaving him alone. But now...here? He...
He sometimes feels like he's been given another chance. Like he has them again...Max, Will, Gladion, Shoyo...
And it really does mean a lot, to actually hear it put into words. So much so that Basil is at a loss himself.]
...we love you too, Shoyo. I know you'd never do anything like this on purpose. That's...that's why I wanted to hear you out. Cause I couldn't believe it.
[ they are words not to be taken lightly. to hear them returned, we, he feels— elation and melancholy. a bittersweet warmth in his chest that still feels in part, a little empty. maybe it'd take some time to feel "full" again, or at the very least half full.
shoyo doesn't move from where he sits, but even then, as he lights up the greenhouse windows with greens and oranges, he feels like he's . . . hovering. hovering for something— because he wanted to do something, he just didn't know if he could. when in doubt: ]
[The fact Shoyo even feels the need to ask makes Basil's chest tighten, but at the same time he understands. Honestly, it's nice of him to be considering his feelings above all else...even if, in the end, this isn't really about him. It never was.
Instead of answering verbally, Basil leans forward and wraps his arms around Shoyo's neck, pulling him down a fraction since he's a little bit shorter.]
[ shoyo’s lips have pulled apart to gasp the softest sound, freeze rigid and upright— until he finally relax into a hold that needs just a bit of bending (funny, because he always used to be the one needing to reach, and he wasn't even that taller now, only by an inch). shoyo’s arms find basil’s shoulders and neck, and from there, it’s easier to give the other monster a tight, heartfelt embrace. next to the drop of his ears, he’ll hear the wet sputter of shoyo’s words, knocking his head sideways against basil’s. ]
Thank you—
[ basil knows just how sorry he was— it didn’t feel right to keep beating that hammer. after that? basil deserved much better.
and through their hug, the gargoyle would feel the little jitters of shoyo’s shoulders bouncing as he wept. ]
[Hearing Shoyo cry like this...it hurts. And it makes Basil wish he could erase the pain of what happened for him. It's awfully cruel, knowing that before all of this, Max and Shoyo were just normal friends. The unthinkable remained just that. Unthinkable. Unfathomable. And now...
Basil gives him a gentle squeeze, not hushing or stopping him as he cries. It's all...very familiar, for him.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ how was he? shoyo shows off no indication that he’s alright, or okay, or better than he was before. he can’t pull off a smile for once. his brows strain and his eyes are unfocused, downcast, his lips start to quiver as his gut feels the absolute worst tumble downward like throwing an anchor out to sea. his palms feel clammy, and it’s only after he tries to rub his temple that he realizes he’s beginning to cold sweat: little beads of viscous, slimy fluid that group into the smallest pinch of sea suds.
he doesn’t know how to keep his nervousness from escalating. it just keeps crawling up, and up until it’s tangling his neck and feels asphyxiating. ]
I’m not, [ the tremble in his voice hoists into a squeak, and that’s all he really manages to say as he finds a place to sit down. the floor was fine. as long as he didn’t feel as lightheaded. ] better.
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[Shoyo suddenly sinking to the ground like that is more than a little startling, enough that Basil quickly sinks down to crouch beside him. He doesn't mind being on the ground, honestly more comforted by the earth than anything else. It's cool against his scales- as most things generally are- though he keeps his hands to himself for the time being, unsure if Shoyo wants him too near or not.]
What's wrong? You can tell me.
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Something . . . Awful happened. [ it wasn’t a matter of being able or even comfortable to tell basil. it was about honesty and respect. it was about transparency and salvaging a string of friendships he feels could be rocked to the core. ] I need to tell you— And I need you to be honest, with— with how you’ll feel about it.
[ the last thing he wishes to do is sit around people who’d be uncomfortable with him there going forward.
at the last second, he has doubts if he’s even ready to say anything, but it’s too late to go back. he has to move forward. ahead. to shake this off. he inhales, swallows a gulp that feels dry and answers the same way: with a parched crack from his throat. ]
Okay?
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Basil has immediate reason to worry.
He tries not to wring his hands, because he doesn't want his anxiousness to show...but it probably shows in his expression anyway, and the way his ears droop low.]
O...okay. I'm listening.
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he deserves to know from shoyo, the cause, not from the victim. ]
That dream— wasn’t a dream. With the doors, and everyone stuck— it was real.
[ and that may have been obvious, now. that something did happen with the lot of them, but not the way shoyo had described, or even taken the first time. when the kelpie realizes it’s time to add, his voice cracks, chokes. if only his glow, like a nightlight, could’ve been comforting. but it only served as a grim reminder. ]
And what I remembered, saving Max, and having fun in the pool, it wasn’t . . . It’s not true. I made it up— [ that sounds like he lied about it, and quite hurriedly does he add: ] Not, not on purpose, my brain, [ he gestures to his head in hopes of making sense, his features beginning to twist painfully. the shake in his voice becomes far more audible— like a lonely, weak little twig exposed to the wind. ] made it up.
[ that in itself had been scary to him, made him feel like he absolutely lost it, broke apart, wasn’t the same. but worse than the horror of what had happened, no. it haunts him every hour of the day. ]
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Just like Sunny.
It's a very grimly familiar scenario that makes Basil's heartrate pick up, and for a moment he has to focus on not letting his body get too hot. Not only could he ruin his greenhouse, but he could really hurt Shoyo, if he isn't careful. Even still, he might feel little waves of heat coming off Basil's scales, like a space-heater you just turned on. All the more reason not to get too close.]
What...did happen, then?
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he's been waking up from his naps the same way. the heat that burned so close to him was warm, but not inviting. he had to say it. there was nothing else to walk around, or explain, detail by detail— what matters is what really happened, and with a sharp inhale, he squeaks out: ]
I, [ in his odd little frenzy, in his quest for companionship disguised as the need for a meal, he became opportune. he saved her from miles' jaws only to have her life force end up in his. ] killed Max.
[ it felt like a bomb had dropped and wiped everything out. he said it, but his shoulders didn't feel lighter, and neither did his conscience. it made the weight of remorse heavier. remembering it, seeing it all again within his mind's eye—
and every time he remembers it, he remembers what the energy tasted like, and it was unlike any elation a simple solid meal could provide. it was so much more. it was intimate and raw, it was her— he hates it. he hates it so much that he loved it. through his hics and babbles, shoyo snorts wet and awful: ]
W-we talked, and— we're trying, to figure it out, [ but what they all expected, what shoyo had felt and what sherlock had strengthened in words was that things won't ever really be the same again. not with max, and probably not with basil. he's scared, but he feels so selfish, feeling scared. ] I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, [ but no amount of his heart bleeding with fix the mess, not even make it look cleaner. ] but it was me, and— I'll be alright, with . . . W-whatever, you want to do.
no subject
He can't possibly blame Shoyo for that. He'd be a hypocrite if he did.
Yet still, to know the real truth is to realize that things absolutely are not okay. That the reason Basil has been suffering sleepless nights, crying in his bed terrified that Max would never come home, is sitting right in front of him.
Everything is going to be okay, he'd said that night. He'd held Sunny's hand tightly in his, so tight it made his fingers numb, marching him back towards the house even though they'd both made the mistake of looking back anyway. It had been his responsibility to fix everything, and in doing so, he'd ruined lives. The apologies hit his ears and yet, Basil can only focus on the way Shoyo is breaking down in front of him, clearly still mortified by what he'd done, intentional or not.
He thinks Basil will hate him now, rightfully so. That he's lost a friend as well, on top of everything else. And for a long moment where Basil says nothing at all, poor Shoyo has nothing to really go on but his own idea of what might be happening.
Then, Basil leans forward, just a fraction. His body is still warm but not scalding as he brings up the claws of his right hand, gently wiping the tears off Shoyo's cheek. It does very little, given how heavily and hard he's crying, and the heat causes the wetness to sizzle briefly before Basil thinks better of trying more and pulls away. Because he, too, is starting to cry. He can feel the tears welling up, whiskers trembling as he breathes in too deep.]
You...you didn't mean to. Right? You didn't...
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watches basil with unblinking, swollen eyes, pained and mourning. ]
I did. [ not meaning to would have been killing her against his will. he may have not wanted to act like that now, but he still did. and that didn’t change the fact that his intention then had been what it was. if he had to do anything, with all of his respect toward max, and basil? is to not take that tempting, easy way out that seemed promising to balm the pain involving it. he had to man up and own it. ] I was so . . . Lonely, I wanted— I wanted her, t-to stay, with me.
[ he wasn’t trying to throw his blame anywhere, just— he didn’t know. an explanation was warranted to answer what happened? somehow. ]
And that’s . . . H-how I eat.
[ but he only found out after max had him remember. ]
no subject
[He just...was compelled to. To keep her with him. Literally.
That's what Basil has to believe. He can't fathom a world in which Shoyo would hurt someone intentionally, maliciously. And for that, well...he can't say he isn't upset at all, because the hurt is showing in his eyes and the way he holds himself. But he couldn't possibly hate him for it either, not given all the circumstances that have led them to this point.]
You. You said you and Max were...talking about it?
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he doesn't know until what point he's deserving of this amount of understanding, or effort to instead of just— pushing him away. it felt like the most obvious answer. maybe the easiest reaction and he's not seeing it. ]
We— talked. She reminded me. But . . . [ it hadn't extended much beyond the truth, and two lost children lacking in ideas to do much of anything beyond tears and fears. not even shoyo knew, yet. there were more things he didn't remember from the backrooms. ] We need more time, to figure it out. She . . . Needs time.
[ as much as she ]
I want to talk again— when she feels better to. [ shoyo sucks his lips into his mouth, canines pinching the skin from above. even if he raw eyes feel stingy and heavy, tears no longer fall; they've stained his cheeks enough, and what's left of them are abrupt little jolts from his shoulders as his lungs hiccup. ] I just wish I could . . . do something.
[ but it's frustrating that he comes up blank every damn time. ]
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The Gargoyle swallows against the dryness in his mouth, wrapping his tail tight around his legs. He hates this, not just for Max, but for Shoyo too. And while it's something of a relief to finally know what happened, he...also feels burdened by it. It's knowledge he almost wishes he didn't have.]
...that...that's what matters most to me right now. That you listen to her, and do things at her pace. Which...it sounds like you're doing.
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[ so he knows where to go from here. ]
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I'm...a little upset you didn't tell me the truth, but that...I know that wasn't your fault. You didn't lie on purpose.
[Unlike some people-]
And I...wish you didn't hurt Max. But I can't take it back now that it's already happened. ...I think I would have felt different if...you guys fought or something, and you hurt her on purpose to be mean...you know?
no subject
[ he wished it wasn't him. he wished it never happened. i didn't know, shoyo tells himself in the comfort (or not) of his own thoughts, too. maybe a part of him knew something was wrong, but— it was so painful to remember. almost too painful. it felt like there was something more being torn from him when he did. torn and crushed and smeared all over the place. for basil to understand that was . . . a miracle he wasn't expecting, and something stronger than relief washes down his shoulders like a cascade. it didn't mean things were lighter, actually— he still felt the weight of it. harsh and beating on his back. ]
I'd never . . . I, [ his lips feel dry, and so does his mouth when he holds his breath back. before he could see himself exhaling, he was already saying it. ] love you guys.
[ his eyes feel like they'll stay watery permanently. they are such simple words, yet deeply profound. people need to hear it more, say it more, it didn't matter if he only knew them since may. they were his friends and he's attached himself to their existence like the lifeline he had in ryslig. basil was just the first to hear it. ]
no subject
He understands that all too well.
Basil's eyes widen, and for a moment, the admission leaves him speechless. Back home, Basil lost all of his friends. His entire friend group splintered and broke apart, leaving him alone. But now...here? He...
He sometimes feels like he's been given another chance. Like he has them again...Max, Will, Gladion, Shoyo...
And it really does mean a lot, to actually hear it put into words. So much so that Basil is at a loss himself.]
...we love you too, Shoyo. I know you'd never do anything like this on purpose. That's...that's why I wanted to hear you out. Cause I couldn't believe it.
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shoyo doesn't move from where he sits, but even then, as he lights up the greenhouse windows with greens and oranges, he feels like he's . . . hovering. hovering for something— because he wanted to do something, he just didn't know if he could. when in doubt: ]
Is it okay . . . If I hug you? Or—
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Instead of answering verbally, Basil leans forward and wraps his arms around Shoyo's neck, pulling him down a fraction since he's a little bit shorter.]
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Thank you—
[ basil knows just how sorry he was— it didn’t feel right to keep beating that hammer. after that? basil deserved much better.
and through their hug, the gargoyle would feel the little jitters of shoyo’s shoulders bouncing as he wept. ]
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Basil gives him a gentle squeeze, not hushing or stopping him as he cries. It's all...very familiar, for him.]
...it's okay. It's going to be okay.