He didn’t feel okay.
As Toris sat down onto the knot of roots of a tree, he felt so conflicted. The nation that so framed his face with iron spirit and heart now felt so torn. As if his steel exterior began to rust and crack, leaking out those dreadful emotions that he so wished he could keep it in. Those said emotions were tearing him apart, not wanting to be chained and sealed away. All because of his younger self.
He couldn’t understand. Why he was pained with the thought of losing someone that constantly pestered him? That has done so many foolish things that it would be actually justified that someone would hate him.
But at the same time, he cared for him too much. He wanted to protect him. His innocence was to be there with him as long as he lives on. Viltautas can’t go down the same path as Toris. He doesn’t deserve the aching lonely days, the fragile state of mind that could be shattered by a mere gust of wind. Neither those deep scars that he won’t be able to escape. He doesn’t need- no, he doesn’t deserve it all.
But those chances of teaching him were replaced with scoldings and lies. Instead of talking to Vilt with open eyes, he was blinded by the selfish thought that he never acted like him. No wonder he ran away. Maybe he grew tired of the scoldings. Or that he was afraid. Afraid of becoming this..this monster.
Toris kept sitting there, toxic and anxious thoughts swirling around his head. He held onto the roots as his heart only became painful to feel.
“ I’m sorry. So sorry. I’m so sorry for what I have done. ”
Abhorrence was not quite the term fit to uphold his emotions in regards to Toris && never would. Never had Viltautas been repugnant towards Toris, regardless of the actions he might choose to take. He might have feared losing Feliks but himself ? He possessed no such fragility to shy away from the rails his path would take upon. Might he be simply kind to disallow Toris to suffer his fate alone ? A fragment of the past may be useless if his adversaries would prove to be too potent to avert his fate but that didn’t strip his capability to amend Toris’s future with his mere existence.
Initially, he assumed Toris did not comprehend what he was attempting. This ‘Russia’ soul had yet to cease being a threat. His claims were as plain as day, as perilous as molten llava. Viltautas was accustomed to fight whomever dared to threaten his family. Even if he would be reluctant, he was not an escapist. He could not afford to be such a burden. Yet perhaps his recklessness ( siphoned from Feliks’s presence, no doubt ) might have been a burden in the end. Regardless of whether he was trying to save a man, it simply was unjustifiable. Nevertheless, his time with Toris had been nothing but splendid. He found himself slowly chipping away his yearning for the distant days as he lived with Toris && Feliks.
But oh -- ! His contemplation was placed into a halt as a familiar figure loomed into his sight. Despite hunching over, the mess of hair was too distinguishable && at that moment, the colors on Viltautas’s pale stricken face warmed. Was it--? ❝Toris?❞ he called out softly.
