TF141 and what makes them cry.
TW: abuse mention, and just many apologies if this is too emotional, it is after 10pm.
Soap- Seeing children hurt, but not like, one falling. He cannot bear to hear the sound of them in real pain, a shrill cry that rips through any sound around. His heart stops in his ribcage, and suddenly his lashes begin to stick together with wetness. He is just human. He feels that cry, that scream that reaches into his chest and wrap its icy fingers around his heart, making his hands limp and his feet grow unsteady for a moment. He would do anything to run and take them into his arms, but he knows it would be like holding a precious gem in clumsy, dirty palms.
Ghost- He is a hard man to make cry. He is the one who could anyone cry as soon as he takes that mask off and reveals those ghastly pale tributaries running all over his dark red skin. But. Just one little thing kills him. Abuse documentaries. He leaves the room. He's not watching. He can't hear those things happening, those true things. It is as if his skin is on fire again. Invisible hands grip his clothes. His ears are filled with rips and a loud, numbing pounding. A tear on the brim of his eyes, cupping it like two innocent palms to guide its descent down the bumps of his skin. He will not remember. He will not let himself.
Gaz- He is young. The youngest of them. He has his whole life ahead of him. Or does he? His life was turned upside down, he was just a sergeant in the police force. Now he deals with terrors that will never be seen by any training constable. What if he leaves? And leave any chance of getting the best job done too? Would his mother be proud? To hear his stories? Should he have lived this much already? What will he be when the job is done? No one will take him, will they? He could not just act like a normal person, hands itching each day to grab at what he cannot do anymore. If he doesn't ever stop, what a fate. It will never stop. Shall he keep pushing the boulder up the hill, or will he step aside? Let it roll down and crush everything in its path? What will he do? His pillow is left with two dark marks with the spacing of his eyes in the morning, and dry before he leaves to go out again.
Price- Oh Captain. Nothing can make that man cry. He's seen it all. He's done it all. Jaded. Until he opens up his yearly birthday card from his family and sees the poem handwritten there for him. It should not affect him so much but it does. His voice cracks halfway through reading it out to everyone at the dinner table, eyes wet with emotion. It's a stunning sight. Every single pair of ears listen to him, smiles trembling a little to see him this way. And somehow, he reaches the end without any tears dripping out. But some other day, in his time alone, he will think back to his yearly poems, written by people who love him, and remembers that he is still human after all.