[Is it worth it? It hurts so much, even when things pan out fine. But fine doesn't mean untouched.
His limbs hurt for how tightly he's squeezing himself, as compact a ball as he can manage, his head still bent over as he tries but fails to hold back tears. He hates crying. He hates that it seems like it's just a general thing that happens now. Some emotionally unavailable bad boy he is, but then that's just an image he'd striven to uphold.
He listens numbly to Rung as the Cybertronian continues to speak, even if part of him doesn't want to hear it.
Donnie's not even sure if he's mad at him. Inside, he knows he means well, but...it's a lot to hear, and it doesn't help, coming from someone who's still mostly a stranger. Or does it? He...doesn't know.
Absently he wonders what kind of a Witch he would have made...
Silence falls heavily into the space that Rung leaves once he seems, for the moment, finished with his words.
Donnie remains where he sits, and for all the difference he feels, he could have been sitting alone in the void of space.]
[ Rung lets the silence fill with crying, grabbing a small tissue box still to big for the child. Pulling out a tissue and sets it next to him, putting his hand behind, gently touching his back. ]
...
[ He will not even be a stranger to everyone he loves or helps. Its not even just his profession. Someday, he knows... he will be gone... and his memory with it.
[The turtle somehow manages to stiffen even more at the slightest sense of that little weight on his battle shell. He lifts his head just enough to peer over his arms, clawed fingers gingerly reaching out to snag the sheet of tissue, scrubbing with it at his eyes as he sniffles.
What's he supposed to do? Just live in a box? Not trust anyone? Maybe things were easier when they lived apart from the rest of the world, dipping their toes in whenever they felt like it, slipping into but never actually part of things. Operating from the shadows. True, their close bonds were few, but there's nothing Donnie thinks can ever come between them. It seems like being here, things have been doing their best to try, and he hates it.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
momijizukamori
no subject
Date: 2024-12-01 04:43 am (UTC)His limbs hurt for how tightly he's squeezing himself, as compact a ball as he can manage, his head still bent over as he tries but fails to hold back tears. He hates crying. He hates that it seems like it's just a general thing that happens now. Some emotionally unavailable bad boy he is, but then that's just an image he'd striven to uphold.
He listens numbly to Rung as the Cybertronian continues to speak, even if part of him doesn't want to hear it.
Donnie's not even sure if he's mad at him. Inside, he knows he means well, but...it's a lot to hear, and it doesn't help, coming from someone who's still mostly a stranger. Or does it? He...doesn't know.
Absently he wonders what kind of a Witch he would have made...
Silence falls heavily into the space that Rung leaves once he seems, for the moment, finished with his words.
Donnie remains where he sits, and for all the difference he feels, he could have been sitting alone in the void of space.]
no subject
Date: 2024-12-01 12:17 pm (UTC)...
[ He will not even be a stranger to everyone he loves or helps. Its not even just his profession. Someday, he knows... he will be gone... and his memory with it.
So he has to do what he can while he can. ]
no subject
Date: 2024-12-01 09:31 pm (UTC)What's he supposed to do? Just live in a box? Not trust anyone? Maybe things were easier when they lived apart from the rest of the world, dipping their toes in whenever they felt like it, slipping into but never actually part of things. Operating from the shadows. True, their close bonds were few, but there's nothing Donnie thinks can ever come between them. It seems like being here, things have been doing their best to try, and he hates it.]