ELEGY

   There is a squint in the Exo’s gaze to go with his smile, closest thing he can manage to one. Emotion was a hard thing to express, he thought, until he had met Osiris. The Warlock had taught him that there was always someone else who struggled to express themselves (read: Osiris). 

   “Ah, well, forget what it is to be alone.” Saint is happy, always happy, but more now than before. Osiris had that effect on him (half the time at least). His hands rise and rest over top of those resting on his cheeks, gentle, careful. He knew well enough that he did not need to be so with someone like the man before him, but that did not stop it from happening.

   “I can only hope so. Though, it makes your unwillingness to talk to me hurt more knowing this. Please try to be less distant.” For all the love there was still a sense of pleading in the Exo’s tone. “Let me help you.” 

   He knows Osiris, how he buries himself in his work, alone. Saint sometimes did the same but after so long in the Forest.. 

     OSIRIS   HAS   NEVER   BEEN   one   to   gladly   accept   help.    he   likes   being   able   to   see   a   problem   and   fix   it   himself—    however,    it   seems   he’s   had   to   accept   help   more   and   more   lately.    how   bothersome  .  .  .    ah,    but   he   is   not   stagnate.    no   one   person   is.    change   is   a   fact   of   life.    so  .  .  .    maybe   this   once  .  .  .

     ❝   okay.   ❞    he   says.    then   again:    ❝   okay  .  .  .    i   believe   that,    ages   ago,    i   simply   accepted   that   my   life   would   be   lonely.   ❞    he   doesn’t   mention   how   it’s   simply   EASIER   to   bury   himself   in   work   than   it   is   to   OPEN   UP   to   someone.

    osiris   has   sabotaged   every   single   relationship   he’s   had,    partially   out   of   fear,    mostly   because   he   thought   it   was   best   for   them   that   he   was   not   in   their   life.    he   had   something   else   to   focus   on   after   all,    stopping   the   darkness,    preventing   the   vex   from   destroying   everything   they’ve   worked   so   hard   for.    the   only   thing   worse   than   that   is   if   he   was   KNOWN.

   He had begun to turn when Osiris finally took action, and for all his metal might he is held in place. No part of him wanted to pull away now that the Warlock was finally deciding to do something, to speak. Bright eyes stare from beneath the helm as it is Saint’s turn to listen. 

   “Osiris-” He stops before anything else could be said, opposite hand reaching out to settle against Osiris’s cheek, curving to shape his jaw. “You could never fail me. For all the things that have happened between us, I have never seen you afraid. The fact you can admit it- you have changed. “

   “Stubborn old man.” Saint removes his hand and gently uses it instead to take Osiris’s fingers away from his wrist, both hands free to do the same with his helm. Rather unceremoniously is it dropped from his grasp and to the ground after being removed. “What happened to me was in no small part, my own fault, and I do not love you any less for being unable to stop it.” 

   “Nothing will ever change that.” 

     HIS LAUGH IS FORCED, as he closes his eyes, swearing in his mother language. the sight of saint’s face is one for sore, and so very old, eyes. he can’t help but reach up, hands planting on saint’s metal cheeks. he rubs a thumb on the plate underneath his optics. opening his eyes again he lets out a sigh.

     it’s real. this is real. saint is alive, standing in front of him. he can feel his face against his hands.  ❝  look at us. old sad men... i suppose i got so use to being alone with no one but myself and sagira in the forest... i forgot what it was like.  ❞

     i do not love you any less. that’s what he said. he smiles, not quite fully, but it’s enough.   ❝  i know. you’re so full of love, saint.  ❞   you were always better in that regard than me. you could love when i could not.

   Saint cannot bear the silence that hangs in the air, but does not choose to break it, because if he did then the words would have to be goodbye. A man of might and metal Saint-14 could easily hold all the patience in the world but here and now he would refuse to stand for it. The Warlock always had an explanation for everything but in this moment he cannot offer anything? 

   It was quite unlike Saint-14 to give up, on anyone, anything. But he is beyond a breaking point where Osiris was concerned. Opening his mouth to bid the other farewell is when finally, something was said. 

   “Mm, so you would rather distance yourself than come to terms with this?” The way his tone carries does not exactly express anger, leaning towards a bitterness instead. Saint simply cared too much about the man before him, but that did not ease the pain, if anything it only made it worse. Because at the end of it all the most important question was one not yet asked: was it remorse or guilt that Osiris felt?

   “Perhaps I should go, then it can be like I had never come back, as you have said there are things more important to focus on.”

     OSIRIS FEELS DESPERATION well in his heart as soon as saint says he’ll leave. that’s not what he meant. he doesn’t know how to SAY what he means. he means he mourned. he means he’s RELIEVED. he means he doesn’t know how to tackle the albatross around his neck that’s the shape of saint’s death.

     he never ALLOWED himself to do that when he was gone, because then that would be accepting that gap from their separation WAS from death. but now he must deal with it, or forever lose him.   (  again... NOT AGAIN.  )

     osiris reaches out, hand clasping saint’s wrist tightly.   ❝  don’t go. i’m---  ❞   the word never came to him easily, because in a way it’s admitting he’s wrong, he grimaces.   ❝  i’m sorry. i didn’t mean that...  ❞