[Rohan doesn't reciprocate when she throws her arms around him and tightens her hold. It's likely uncomfortable for her, but it's equally uncomfortable for Rohan. So, he merely stands there with his tension, his anger and irritation seemingly impassive in the wake of her proclamations that she has and always will be on his side. He lets his eyes stray over to Arnold, watching him pace because Rohan doesn't need to look at Reimi's face to know that she's crying. It's evident in the shake in her voice, the hiccups that swallow parts and whole words, and in the way she seems so small and weak even as she holds onto him with a physical strength he couldn't have anticipated her possessing.]
[It doesn't feel good hearing her say any of this. Arguably, it should. It's all the affirmation in the world from the singular person who has meant to the most to Rohan once he knew who she was even if he's consistently demonstrated it poorly to her. It's everything that any sensible human being would want to hear, to know that there is one person out there who will love them unconditionally regardless of whatever mistakes or flaws they might bear. In fact, it's not something that everyone is fortunate enough to have. And even those who have it must frequently never realize it or only do so once they have squandered it away.]
[But Rohan doesn't feel any joy in hearing it as he thinks he ought to. It's not because he doubts its sincerity — Reimi is too honest a person, but also too kind and gentle to make up a cruel lie like that — but it's the timing of it. It's following everything he's just said, everything he's just admitted and let go in the height of his anger. And in letting everything that he'd once held from her to protect her — no, to protect himself. Everything that he'd held from her to protect himself, his anger, too, was released from its duty of protecting him. And when something as hot and caustic as Rohan's anger leaves, in its place, it leaves a barren, empty space.]
[So, he listens to her. He does truly listen to her. But the words have nowhere to go, managing to only slip in perhaps skin-deep before either remaining there or being turned away by the numbness that's overtaken. The numbness that, to some extent, makes Rohan wish he could take everything he said back, that there was some way to move time back to those moments before he snapped to make a different choice. He doesn't wish she would forget even though it's a feasible thing he could do. Forgetting wouldn't undo it, however, and it would only create more problems in the end. He simply wishes it had never happened and he wishes she wasn't crying and he wishes she wasn't saying these things now and he wishes that she wasn't hugging him at all let alone this tight and he wishes he could be cruel right now and he wishes he couldn't care any less about any of this or about her and he wishes she was in Heaven and he was home where they belong. But wishing is never enough and he knows that because it's the precise reason why he never really wishes for anything. Yet he's wishing now. He's wishing and nothing is happening.]
[Nothing except at some point, he'd let his hands go lax at his sides and not long after, he dismissed Heaven's Door once again. And somewhere along the way, his vision blurred until his cheeks were suddenly wet. So, he gives up. He gives up and he wraps his arms around her. Loosely at first, and then tighter. Mumbling, he says something over her shoulder that could almost be taken as I'm sorry, but it could just as easily be nothing at all.]
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[It doesn't feel good hearing her say any of this. Arguably, it should. It's all the affirmation in the world from the singular person who has meant to the most to Rohan once he knew who she was even if he's consistently demonstrated it poorly to her. It's everything that any sensible human being would want to hear, to know that there is one person out there who will love them unconditionally regardless of whatever mistakes or flaws they might bear. In fact, it's not something that everyone is fortunate enough to have. And even those who have it must frequently never realize it or only do so once they have squandered it away.]
[But Rohan doesn't feel any joy in hearing it as he thinks he ought to. It's not because he doubts its sincerity — Reimi is too honest a person, but also too kind and gentle to make up a cruel lie like that — but it's the timing of it. It's following everything he's just said, everything he's just admitted and let go in the height of his anger. And in letting everything that he'd once held from her to protect her — no, to protect himself. Everything that he'd held from her to protect himself, his anger, too, was released from its duty of protecting him. And when something as hot and caustic as Rohan's anger leaves, in its place, it leaves a barren, empty space.]
[So, he listens to her. He does truly listen to her. But the words have nowhere to go, managing to only slip in perhaps skin-deep before either remaining there or being turned away by the numbness that's overtaken. The numbness that, to some extent, makes Rohan wish he could take everything he said back, that there was some way to move time back to those moments before he snapped to make a different choice. He doesn't wish she would forget even though it's a feasible thing he could do. Forgetting wouldn't undo it, however, and it would only create more problems in the end. He simply wishes it had never happened and he wishes she wasn't crying and he wishes she wasn't saying these things now and he wishes that she wasn't hugging him at all let alone this tight and he wishes he could be cruel right now and he wishes he couldn't care any less about any of this or about her and he wishes she was in Heaven and he was home where they belong. But wishing is never enough and he knows that because it's the precise reason why he never really wishes for anything. Yet he's wishing now. He's wishing and nothing is happening.]
[Nothing except at some point, he'd let his hands go lax at his sides and not long after, he dismissed Heaven's Door once again. And somewhere along the way, his vision blurred until his cheeks were suddenly wet. So, he gives up. He gives up and he wraps his arms around her. Loosely at first, and then tighter. Mumbling, he says something over her shoulder that could almost be taken as I'm sorry, but it could just as easily be nothing at all.]