( The clouds roll with the wind, growing darker with their passage. The wind is not so calm, but it is not violent. The air is cool, and distant (how distant can it be, in a space like this?) thunder breaks as if to punctuate Yoru's question.
Hwylryn squeezes his eyes shut, telling himself not to cry, not to lose himself to upset, the way Gwawlyn often would. (Gwawlyn, his eternal ball and chain - hanging heavy from his neck, every time his feelings grow tempestuous.) And because he does this, there does finally come the light falling of rain. High up as they are, it hits the body unbearably cold - colder than it would, if they were still back down against earth.
He could not pick a single thing Yoru said that did not cut his heart like a knife. )
... What has changed between us, ( he swallows, gazing at Yoru's fallen back, ) except that you now consider us strangers?
( He wants to touch him, but he doesn't know how. To force Yoru to look, now? To take him by the neck? To bite him? To throw him higher, or below?
He doesn't know. So he doesn't. And there may as well be a dry valley between them. )
You love me. ( Though it seems you wish you didn't! Which hurts a lot to think! ) And I love you. We have not set aside our history, our habits. What has changed? The name of it? So would I also be a stranger to you now, if we said these things things that we said, but I told you that, from today, my name is not Hwylryn?
( He feels like he's coming closer to understanding why Yoru is upset, but it frustrates him, because he doesn't know if Yoru is trying to understand Hwylryn, himself. It seems Yoru has gone and settled this of his own accord, without Hwylryn's knowing. And, you know what? How dare he! When he loves you, when he— )
Ish is as Ish to me. He is my paramour, my duet. You have been to me, Yoru, my dearest friend, my most comfortable confidant - do you think my heart is so shallow that both cannot have depth? Do you think so little of me that you think I cannot be vast?
( He understands losing yourself to grief! Boy, does he! But he's so frustrated because he thought— he thought— )
—I always thought that, of everyone here, at least you would try to understand me. How many do you think do? How many do you think can even bear to speak with me, right now?
( And apparently this number excludes Yoru in a way he didn't expect!!!!
No— he fails, in the end. Tears well in his eyes. The rain comes down harder. And, though he feels he does in his heart, Hwylryn does not soak through. )
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Hwylryn squeezes his eyes shut, telling himself not to cry, not to lose himself to upset, the way Gwawlyn often would. (Gwawlyn, his eternal ball and chain - hanging heavy from his neck, every time his feelings grow tempestuous.) And because he does this, there does finally come the light falling of rain. High up as they are, it hits the body unbearably cold - colder than it would, if they were still back down against earth.
He could not pick a single thing Yoru said that did not cut his heart like a knife. )
... What has changed between us, ( he swallows, gazing at Yoru's fallen back, ) except that you now consider us strangers?
( He wants to touch him, but he doesn't know how. To force Yoru to look, now? To take him by the neck? To bite him? To throw him higher, or below?
He doesn't know. So he doesn't. And there may as well be a dry valley between them. )
You love me. ( Though it seems you wish you didn't! Which hurts a lot to think! ) And I love you. We have not set aside our history, our habits. What has changed? The name of it? So would I also be a stranger to you now, if we said these things things that we said, but I told you that, from today, my name is not Hwylryn?
( He feels like he's coming closer to understanding why Yoru is upset, but it frustrates him, because he doesn't know if Yoru is trying to understand Hwylryn, himself. It seems Yoru has gone and settled this of his own accord, without Hwylryn's knowing. And, you know what? How dare he! When he loves you, when he— )
Ish is as Ish to me. He is my paramour, my duet. You have been to me, Yoru, my dearest friend, my most comfortable confidant - do you think my heart is so shallow that both cannot have depth? Do you think so little of me that you think I cannot be vast?
( He understands losing yourself to grief! Boy, does he! But he's so frustrated because he thought— he thought— )
—I always thought that, of everyone here, at least you would try to understand me. How many do you think do? How many do you think can even bear to speak with me, right now?
( And apparently this number excludes Yoru in a way he didn't expect!!!!
No— he fails, in the end. Tears well in his eyes. The rain comes down harder. And, though he feels he does in his heart, Hwylryn does not soak through. )