It's voiceless, wordless, but there is stubbornness to his reach, a seed of determination, a sprout of recklessness trying to take root. Heart still crippled, crushed under heels and claws, who he is-- what he is-- fighting him, tooth and claw and nail and wings, reaching for these nameless faces, these people that are so important, so bloody important even if he doesn't know them.
Give up?
It's not an option, it was never an option, Esteban bounces back, he always does, he just needs, needs, greeds to save someone, to save anyone because they are missing from him and they are lost-- he lost them, he lost them, he lost them-- and they're untethered, lost in the void, lost in the abyss and the darkness and the far reaches between the stars where nothing shines--
Glowing lights, trails of lights. Some vanish, into the distance, tantalizingly out of reach.
We'll look, not like this, we can't lose you, come back, come back.
Sunshine shimmering on the break of the waves. The smell of salt and grass, three moons aligned in the sky. Joy and teasing and warmth, warmth-- flowers, soil scattered on the ground and pain and loss; a loss that he knows too well, a loss that he won't allow to linger. He won't allow it to stay.
'I'm sorry.'
No; not like this. He needs to say it, he needs to say it. It can't be this half-hearted attempt when their thoughts are too full and the line blurs between he and him and them, too tangled that they share in each other's memories. Esteban is not a coward. He will apologize to Tidus to his face, and that is a promise.
He reaches back to the blond, turns his memories away even though it's painful, even though it rips at him, grief greedily leeching bloody fingertips deep between his ribs, cracking at the fragile cage. Lost, lost, lost to him, these faceless beings, these people he does not know but wishes to save, wishes to reach, wishes to hold, back with him, where it is light, and warm, and safe.
Tidus. The feeling of sand tickling between his toes, the wind carried across miles of open water, the sound of waves, like a breath, steady in its rhythm. The strands of light, filtering above his head and dancing in the water like veils. He doesn't trust himself to turn his thoughts away, even though he recalls each name that has come to be precious to him, that has come to become part of his soul as he turns back, and walks.
It's hard. Nameless voices wail their hatred behind him, their fury and pain and begging, begging, please save them. And he wants to. He wants to so badly, to turn around and offer his hand and tell them it's going to be alright, it's going to be fine, he can save them, can guide them back, it's going to be alright because he's here and Tidus can anchor them and they'll walk back together.
Tidus. Holding him loosely and pretending he doesn't know that he's crying, promising things that weren't his to promise, even though he would have put anything at all on the line to spare him that pain. (But he can't really spare him, can he? There are people who went missing, people screaming behind him that he should bring back, that he could bring back if he only tried a little harder--)
He'd been so callous. He'd been so focused. Determined to fix this all so much that he'd foregone the blond's pain to think instead of a solution, and he shouldn't have, he shouldn't have been so blind. He knows grief-- bloody scarring across his chest-- he knows that fear.
He should have listened to Tidus to the end first. He should have offered more, and thought less. He should have been a friend, actually a friend, and he's failed him, and he's sorry, but he won't let it happen again. He's going to apologize, straight to the blond's face, and he won't ever be so callous again.
He's running, void screeching at his back, but he won't listen, he can't listen because Tidus is next to the train, and Esteban's already failed him before. He won't do it twice.
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It's voiceless, wordless, but there is stubbornness to his reach, a seed of determination, a sprout of recklessness trying to take root. Heart still crippled, crushed under heels and claws, who he is-- what he is-- fighting him, tooth and claw and nail and wings, reaching for these nameless faces, these people that are so important, so bloody important even if he doesn't know them.
Give up?
It's not an option, it was never an option, Esteban bounces back, he always does, he just needs, needs, greeds to save someone, to save anyone because they are missing from him and they are lost-- he lost them, he lost them, he lost them-- and they're untethered, lost in the void, lost in the abyss and the darkness and the far reaches between the stars where nothing shines--
Glowing lights, trails of lights. Some vanish, into the distance, tantalizingly out of reach.
We'll look, not like this, we can't lose you, come back, come back.
Sunshine shimmering on the break of the waves. The smell of salt and grass, three moons aligned in the sky. Joy and teasing and warmth, warmth-- flowers, soil scattered on the ground and pain and loss; a loss that he knows too well, a loss that he won't allow to linger. He won't allow it to stay.
'I'm sorry.'
No; not like this. He needs to say it, he needs to say it. It can't be this half-hearted attempt when their thoughts are too full and the line blurs between he and him and them, too tangled that they share in each other's memories. Esteban is not a coward. He will apologize to Tidus to his face, and that is a promise.
He reaches back to the blond, turns his memories away even though it's painful, even though it rips at him, grief greedily leeching bloody fingertips deep between his ribs, cracking at the fragile cage. Lost, lost, lost to him, these faceless beings, these people he does not know but wishes to save, wishes to reach, wishes to hold, back with him, where it is light, and warm, and safe.
Tidus. The feeling of sand tickling between his toes, the wind carried across miles of open water, the sound of waves, like a breath, steady in its rhythm. The strands of light, filtering above his head and dancing in the water like veils. He doesn't trust himself to turn his thoughts away, even though he recalls each name that has come to be precious to him, that has come to become part of his soul as he turns back, and walks.
It's hard. Nameless voices wail their hatred behind him, their fury and pain and begging, begging, please save them. And he wants to. He wants to so badly, to turn around and offer his hand and tell them it's going to be alright, it's going to be fine, he can save them, can guide them back, it's going to be alright because he's here and Tidus can anchor them and they'll walk back together.
Tidus. Holding him loosely and pretending he doesn't know that he's crying, promising things that weren't his to promise, even though he would have put anything at all on the line to spare him that pain. (But he can't really spare him, can he? There are people who went missing, people screaming behind him that he should bring back, that he could bring back if he only tried a little harder--)
He'd been so callous. He'd been so focused. Determined to fix this all so much that he'd foregone the blond's pain to think instead of a solution, and he shouldn't have, he shouldn't have been so blind. He knows grief-- bloody scarring across his chest-- he knows that fear.
He should have listened to Tidus to the end first. He should have offered more, and thought less. He should have been a friend, actually a friend, and he's failed him, and he's sorry, but he won't let it happen again. He's going to apologize, straight to the blond's face, and he won't ever be so callous again.
He's running, void screeching at his back, but he won't listen, he can't listen because Tidus is next to the train, and Esteban's already failed him before. He won't do it twice.