#AUUUUUUUGH *COLLAPSES ON THE FLOOR AND ROLLS AROUND GROANING IN PAIN*

[theomachst]

❝ ... i guess i'm just scared of losing you. ❞ // hey but like - consider one(1) Roche being deeply concerned for him

It doesn't come as a surprise: his little fledgling is growing, maturing by leaps and bounds. Perhaps Rhapsodos had been too mired within his own personal woes to notice it's insidious leakage into what should be effortless and genuine, the depth of his caring for the other SOLDIER and his progress as a rising young star on the cusp of nucleosynthesis.

He can feel the pride swell within his chest, his smile aglow with heartfelt emotion, even as he gently and steadily begins to pull away from the younger man's orbit. This had always been the plan since he learned what laid in store for him. He couldn't trust himself to fade away gracefully, with poise and perfection. He'd rip and rend, scratch and tear at even the kindest of hands offered in 'understanding', as well-intentioned as it was, he could not ignore that, no- They did not and could not understand what he was going through, thinking of every passing day, unless they had lived through it themselves. The starkness of it, in high contrast to everything else that had come before- It's fathomless enormity, yet it's bone-chilling precipitance.

The End.

"I know to what heights you'd yet soar, my friend. You cannot let anyone stand in the way of your upward momentum. It's not enough to want to be like someone-" he trails off, staring down into his own flexing hand, feeling the tightness of the bandages hidden just beneath the protective layers of leather and fabric.

"-in fact, I'd advise against limiting yourself that way. It is your own unique path that you're establishing, hammering out in flame and steel. Look up to those who came before, certainly... but you have to be willing to eclipse that image you've built within your own mind, and don't let it hold you back. Especially if it happens to be my own."

He claps both hands upon Roche's shoulders, giving a firm jostle, as if to ground him in he reality of that moment.

"Promise me," he demands rather than requests, the gravity of his expression perhaps too intense for the snippet of wisdom he's extrapolating.

"The last thing I want is to hold you back, Roche."