There were so many fucked up things about his thought process right now. Vic was hurting - in a state of despair only he was capable of plunging him into. Affect for an empath was like oxygen to a flame. Nothing else made them flicker. Eventually, they suffocated like embers covered with dirt. In a sick way it made Ricky happy. Not Vic’s pain but that, in essense, he couldn’t move on from him. Ricky held Vic in his heart with a selfish ferocity but it was a feorcity nonehtless. He couldn’t let him go -- not completely. He’d said he wasn’t there to throw a hitch in whatever connections Vic had made outside of him but that was a lie. Because he’d sabotage everything and anything without thinking twice. To take what he wanted was innate and Vic flowed in his blood. Those were the facts of the matter. The thought came and went, leaving shame in it’s wake. Ricky looked at Vic with remorseful eyes. He couldn’t even begin to know where to start his apology but he was sorry, in earnest. More so than he’d ever been. More sorry than all those apologies he’d thrown at Vic just to quell his ire. Vic was still crying and he felt powerless to stop it. Ricky moved again, sitting next to Vic on the couch, establishing the proximity of aquaintances: closer than strangers but still farther than lovers. When Ricky decided to erase his number from his phone and block l=all his calls, he erased everything they’d worked on in the past. There was a foreign tension in the iar. LIke he’d have to get to reknow Vic all over again
There was a lot to process and Ricky couldn’t bring himself to reply right away. He didn’t so much want forgiveness. Vic could hold this against him for as long as he wanted. Maybe he just wanted to know, if he came back tomorrow, the door would still be unlocked. More so maybe he wanted to know if he even had to leave in the first place.
