He closed his optics and listened to the environment around them for that long moment, momentarily wondering if Ace had ignored his seemingly meaningless remark. He understood if he did, the kid was going through a lot. Ace was one of the ones hit hardest by it all.
But then that single stifled sob rang through the air.
The burning in his chest twists around at the small yet significant sound hitting his hearing, almost letting a gasp slip from his vents as a force of his own emotion suddenly constricted his chest.
He tried to confide it, despite how empathic he naturally was. He didn’t even know what was natural for something like him, an Exo. Yet there were some traits he just wasn’t able to shake no matter how much he tried to discipline it.
He braced his arms across his chest, as if he was trying to poorly contain whatever churning upset that was rising inside his chest and threatening to sieze his voice.
And then Ace spoke again, with that same familiar warble of grief.
‘I don’t want to anymore.’
It pierced him with the force of a blazing spear through the center of his chest, his optics blinking back open as his arms squeezed around his chest trying to uselessly dam the surge of melancholy that had renewed itself in his already hurting soul.
It didn’t matter if this was a bad time to break again. Once the stinging heat in his face and chest ignited, there was no stopping it. Not even in front of other Guardians.
He clamped a hand over his mouth and allowed a shaky sigh to hiss from the vents of his face, pulling his cloak’s hood over his head to hide the dam that was breaking again.
Green flashed in his mouth, a whine had slipped from his voice box. He was never good at holding it in.
after such a confession made, an admit to defeat, ace can only feel worse. he sits there, hugging himself in that tree, starting to shake. the bright blue lights in his eyes flicker-- unable to produce tears, it’s the only way he can cry-- and for a moment, he buries his head in his arms. just until he stops feeling so sick.
keylime whines, and ace tenses. he peers down at him, half of him understanding, the other half almost in disbelief. after all this time, he doesn’t think anyone’s ever really... cried in front of him, in regards to his father’s death. they got upset, or angry, but never cried.
maybe they did, only after he’d left, for his own sake.
he takes a deep breath, and rubs his face with his hand. he supposes this makes them both a bit hypocritical. “crying is good,” they say, then try not to cry in front of each other. despite the gravity of the situation, and his own mourning, ace can manage to find some humor in that.
“you know,” he starts, then sniffles, “dad wouldn’t have wanted anyone to be sad about him. he’d say ‘no sad faces, guardian.’ then he’d bring you ramen or something... just to cheer you up. ‘cause how can you be upset when you’ve got a free lunch?”
slowly, he begins to uncurl from the tight little ball he’d drawn himself into. though his eyes still flicker, he continues. “and... we might not have that right now. but we might later. then maybe one of us won’t feel like crying as much.”
