Roland isn't blind to his own faults. He's aware that in another life, far away from the void and all its complications, he might as well be a stranger to Will with how often he left him all alone. He might as well have been Jecht, acting like he's not on a mission, acting like he's on a roadtrip with other things in his mind. Like making sure borders were under control, and that kids like Will would never need to think about unaffordable hospitals for treatments ever again. It never got better, either. It was all taken from him before he had a chance to rest, to make amends to the one person he promised he would save most of all. He thinks of this often. That sending a letter across the sea was probably Roland trying to bridge the distance; trying to tell him that he hasn't forgotten the promise he made to an apparition made of light and magic once upon a time.
Tidus was trying to tell him that, huh? Send him something, whatever it is. Before it's too late. Something more, something to hold on to. Tidus no longer speaking to Roland from any other place apart from being someone's wayward son.
He doesn't stop himself from saying the words, and they don't come out forced either. The irony isn't lost on him - that the Roland today is much better at speaking how he feels, if he knows who is there to receive him. "...You're good. If I ever met him, I'd tell him that." Roland always means what he says, too. Tidus need only to look at him, Roland's eyes shining with brimming trust, or a more unbreakable confidence that's been forged stronger since the first time he's met him, seen Tidus's resolve for himself.
He tries to move forward. Tries to cut through more vine, more leaves. But it's futile if only because he feels his arm grow limp, the sword weakening in his grip.
It's not the same, with your kid. What you need to say to him. Even if you recorded anything...
...Would he ever hear it? I know it'll make it, he once told Tidus, feet wet from the crashing shore, bottles drifting into an alien sunset.
"If I left him more messages, it feels like I'm already saying goodbye." Roland admits quietly, looking away, anywhere but at Tidus. Gaze low, scared almost. Scared that reaching out to William again is just another excuse to say I can't come home, this is the story you need to tell without me. Be good. Until we meet again.
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Roland isn't blind to his own faults. He's aware that in another life, far away from the void and all its complications, he might as well be a stranger to Will with how often he left him all alone. He might as well have been Jecht, acting like he's not on a mission, acting like he's on a roadtrip with other things in his mind. Like making sure borders were under control, and that kids like Will would never need to think about unaffordable hospitals for treatments ever again. It never got better, either. It was all taken from him before he had a chance to rest, to make amends to the one person he promised he would save most of all. He thinks of this often. That sending a letter across the sea was probably Roland trying to bridge the distance; trying to tell him that he hasn't forgotten the promise he made to an apparition made of light and magic once upon a time.
Tidus was trying to tell him that, huh? Send him something, whatever it is. Before it's too late. Something more, something to hold on to. Tidus no longer speaking to Roland from any other place apart from being someone's wayward son.
He doesn't stop himself from saying the words, and they don't come out forced either. The irony isn't lost on him - that the Roland today is much better at speaking how he feels, if he knows who is there to receive him. "...You're good. If I ever met him, I'd tell him that." Roland always means what he says, too. Tidus need only to look at him, Roland's eyes shining with brimming trust, or a more unbreakable confidence that's been forged stronger since the first time he's met him, seen Tidus's resolve for himself.
He tries to move forward. Tries to cut through more vine, more leaves. But it's futile if only because he feels his arm grow limp, the sword weakening in his grip.
It's not the same, with your kid. What you need to say to him. Even if you recorded anything...
...Would he ever hear it? I know it'll make it, he once told Tidus, feet wet from the crashing shore, bottles drifting into an alien sunset.
"If I left him more messages, it feels like I'm already saying goodbye." Roland admits quietly, looking away, anywhere but at Tidus. Gaze low, scared almost. Scared that reaching out to William again is just another excuse to say I can't come home, this is the story you need to tell without me. Be good. Until we meet again.