[He lets Rhy lead him, curling their fingers together as if any loosening of their contact could spell his own unraveling. Hidden by the ivy, they spend a moment suspended in silence as Wilhelm constructs the story in his head. It's not a complicated story. The whole thing slides on a linear line, if P then Q, and yet — he doesn't know how to begin. With his heart thudding in his throat, he almost doesn't tell it at all.
But if he doesn't, then Kell might. Somehow, that would be worse.
And Rhy is kindness given form, eyes sympathetic and words patient. That makes it easier to uncurl his fist from around this secret he's keeping. When he finally opens up, though, what trips out is not the beginning of the story, but the conclusion.]
I fucked up. [So quiet that he's not entirely sure he said it at all. Gulping down his nerves, he starts over.] That night at the party. I wanted to help. I was trying to help, and I thought, you know, with my fire I could actually do something for once. So...
[Finding his hand at his mouth, teeth scraping at his thumbnail — with no memory of starting it — he grips the seat of the bench instead. Somewhere in this pause, he hopes Rhy fills in the blanks on his own.]
[ Rhy waits for him patiently, watching Wilhelm's face and the warring expressions that flicker over it, the tension in his jaw and shoulders. He doesn't press. Eventually, the young man gets out the words, and Rhy... nods.
He sits back slightly, realizing he'd been leaning in perhaps too far into Wilhelm's space. A soft breath escapes him, not exactly a sigh, but a noise of realization. ]
...ah. Yes, that. Kell did tell me about that.
[ Before Wilhelm can get the wrong idea, he continues: ]
[So Rhy already knew. It's as comforting as it is shocking that the thing looming so large in his own mind, overshadowing every last one of his thoughts, does not occupy the same place in Rhy's mind. To him, it's just one of a hundred things that has happened in the last few days. But Wilhelm can't help but think that if a hundred dominoes fall, the one that tipped first has to be at fault.]
He seemed pretty pissed at me.
[Contrary to Rhy's worries, Wilhelm doesn't mind the shrinking of his space. After days of having only his own thoughts for company, it's a relief to not feel so alone. To have someone warm and solid within reach. Slanting into Rhy, he tucks his head against his shoulder.]
If that spell had worked, none of this would be happening.
[The smallest break in his voice cracks the end of that sentence.]
He blames himself. For not somehow predicting the future and stepping in before an accident.
[ When Wilhelm leans in, Rhy tightens an arm around him, reassuring and warm. ]
We were all given a card, Wilhelm. Are you sure you were the only one who didn't do what was asked? There were so many ways to be imprecise, intentionally or accidentally.
Why would the most powerful mages in Thorne rely on a spell so easy to mess up, and put it in so many hands with varying magical expertise?
[ Not to mention the matter of trust. Rhy had given the Thornean monarchy the benefit of the doubt largely out of familiarity, perhaps naivete, accepting they had a common goal to keep the magic of this world from fading. His trust has eroded quickly and thoroughly, for obvious reasons.
He turns his head, pressing his mouth to Wilhelm's hair. ]
[It's not his fault. It's not his fault. Wilhelm doesn't believe it yet, but the words are soft and lovely nonetheless, and he wants to hold onto them. One by one, he lets go of the arguments gathered on his tongue. They'll come back later, all the ifs and buts that have weighed on his heart all week. But for now, he tries to see the situation through Rhy's much kinder eyes.
Readily curling into the comfort that Rhy offers, he keeps his head there on his shoulder and clasps the other's hand between both of his. He says nothing for a long moment, neither capable of agreeing nor eager to deny the absolution he craves. Finally, he mumbles into Rhy's shirt:]
Can you just...sit with me a little longer? Please.
[ Rhy assures him. He takes to stroking Wilhelm's head gently, fingers running through his hair. ]
Did you know? The rosebushes over there by the balcony were grown from seeds, using only sunlight and water. One of the gardeners told me they're her passion project. No magic, she said.
Isn't that amazing?
[ He keeps talking, distracting Wilhelm without letting him go, chatting about inconsequential things and stroking his hair. They can talk about the rest another time. About the war, the burning crops, the hard winter ahead. But Rhy is tired of talking about all that too; he much prefers to tell Wilhelm all he's learned about the garden and let their minds wander for just a little while. ]
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no subject
But if he doesn't, then Kell might. Somehow, that would be worse.
And Rhy is kindness given form, eyes sympathetic and words patient. That makes it easier to uncurl his fist from around this secret he's keeping. When he finally opens up, though, what trips out is not the beginning of the story, but the conclusion.]
I fucked up. [So quiet that he's not entirely sure he said it at all. Gulping down his nerves, he starts over.] That night at the party. I wanted to help. I was trying to help, and I thought, you know, with my fire I could actually do something for once. So...
[Finding his hand at his mouth, teeth scraping at his thumbnail — with no memory of starting it — he grips the seat of the bench instead. Somewhere in this pause, he hopes Rhy fills in the blanks on his own.]
no subject
He sits back slightly, realizing he'd been leaning in perhaps too far into Wilhelm's space. A soft breath escapes him, not exactly a sigh, but a noise of realization. ]
...ah. Yes, that. Kell did tell me about that.
[ Before Wilhelm can get the wrong idea, he continues: ]
He's far angrier with himself than with you.
no subject
He seemed pretty pissed at me.
[Contrary to Rhy's worries, Wilhelm doesn't mind the shrinking of his space. After days of having only his own thoughts for company, it's a relief to not feel so alone. To have someone warm and solid within reach. Slanting into Rhy, he tucks his head against his shoulder.]
If that spell had worked, none of this would be happening.
[The smallest break in his voice cracks the end of that sentence.]
no subject
[ When Wilhelm leans in, Rhy tightens an arm around him, reassuring and warm. ]
We were all given a card, Wilhelm. Are you sure you were the only one who didn't do what was asked? There were so many ways to be imprecise, intentionally or accidentally.
Why would the most powerful mages in Thorne rely on a spell so easy to mess up, and put it in so many hands with varying magical expertise?
[ Not to mention the matter of trust. Rhy had given the Thornean monarchy the benefit of the doubt largely out of familiarity, perhaps naivete, accepting they had a common goal to keep the magic of this world from fading. His trust has eroded quickly and thoroughly, for obvious reasons.
He turns his head, pressing his mouth to Wilhelm's hair. ]
It's not your fault, Wille.
It's not.
no subject
Readily curling into the comfort that Rhy offers, he keeps his head there on his shoulder and clasps the other's hand between both of his. He says nothing for a long moment, neither capable of agreeing nor eager to deny the absolution he craves. Finally, he mumbles into Rhy's shirt:]
Can you just...sit with me a little longer? Please.
[It's nice here.]
no subject
[ Rhy assures him. He takes to stroking Wilhelm's head gently, fingers running through his hair. ]
Did you know? The rosebushes over there by the balcony were grown from seeds, using only sunlight and water. One of the gardeners told me they're her passion project. No magic, she said.
Isn't that amazing?
[ He keeps talking, distracting Wilhelm without letting him go, chatting about inconsequential things and stroking his hair. They can talk about the rest another time. About the war, the burning crops, the hard winter ahead. But Rhy is tired of talking about all that too; he much prefers to tell Wilhelm all he's learned about the garden and let their minds wander for just a little while. ]