#definedmorality

hatred is the first thing that spreads into his bloodstream like an infectious disease, a foreign virus that has no cure, but it’s the dread that causes his stomach to sink, threatens bile in the back of his throat that he swallows down. it’s like a switch has turned on; one moment he’s fine, the next he’s a sick mess, sweating bullets despite the temperature remaining the same.  ❝did you expect me to run away?❞ again, whispers his mind, but his tone remains even, and he hopes that the shake that threatens to escape with his words is contained.  more than the hate, the dread, the sickness though is the overwhelming sense of sorrow and mourning; their past, so far gone that it feels like another life; their brotherly bonds so unrecognizable; and their future, so different than what it should have been. it’s an obsession to think about what could have been; if they had never found out about tesla, if rem hadn’t ever died... but more than that, if vash could have done more.  his friends aren’t the only ones he abandons.

“Well, aren’t you an interesting individual. Can we do anything for you, Chief?”

“While I’m glad to know I can’t even die without your permission, sir, I don’t think you heard me right. I can do this on my own, ya don’t need a babysitter for the babysitter...” Probably, anyways. Honestly he’s thought more than once about getting himself killed just to spite Knives, but that’d be counter-productive in the long run.

*this could be us but you playin' meme*