"A failure," he responds with heartbreaking immediacy, but there's a defiant spark behind it. He fails. Everyone fails, but his failures always seem to have such dire consequences for others. He still tries, but at what point is that folly? At what point does his hope become hubris and his trials become a danger to all?
Hawke curls his fingers into Chris', firmly removing the young king's grip from his chin and keeping it in his grasp. What he does know is he doesn't want this from his boyfriend right now. He appreciates what Chris is trying to do, and it had been exactly necessary not but a moment ago, but he needs a more even talk now that he's calming. He needs to know Chris understands.
"Like anyone, I succeed and fail and struggle and hope enough to keep fighting, but I can never reach where I want to be. It never ends up where I want it. Being an example means being a target too. Trying to protect myself means failing to protect those I love. I'm not... I'm not perfect, no one is perfect, but even trying to be good enough I find myself coming up short. If it was just me that reaped the consequences that would be fine, but it's others that suffer for my mistakes. It's always others that suffer and die because there's something more I could have done that I didn't think of, or did but thought I could beat."
He takes a deep breath, shuttering but stronger than before. More even. This is normal, this is what he sees of himself every day, looking back at him. An exhausted failure of a man who is just trying his best and always comes up short of his own expectations. "I know I'm nice, I'm charming, I try to be kind and friendly and loving. I'm clever and insightful and these are inherently dangerous things to be when I'm still a failure in leadership. I draw people in, people I love, and convince them to follow, and get them hurt, captured, or killed."
He puts his other hand over Chris' in his, gently covering as if it's a bird he's trying to keep from flying off. Gaze firmly on their fingers, Hawke's expression is vulnerable and tender, raw in a way that even he doesn't normally project. There's a self awareness that he buries of habit and duty but has bubbled to the surface in the wake of ebbing emotion and that's what sits before Chris now. Raw and brutal honesty. "But Maker help me I can't let them go."
no subject
Hawke curls his fingers into Chris', firmly removing the young king's grip from his chin and keeping it in his grasp. What he does know is he doesn't want this from his boyfriend right now. He appreciates what Chris is trying to do, and it had been exactly necessary not but a moment ago, but he needs a more even talk now that he's calming. He needs to know Chris understands.
"Like anyone, I succeed and fail and struggle and hope enough to keep fighting, but I can never reach where I want to be. It never ends up where I want it. Being an example means being a target too. Trying to protect myself means failing to protect those I love. I'm not... I'm not perfect, no one is perfect, but even trying to be good enough I find myself coming up short. If it was just me that reaped the consequences that would be fine, but it's others that suffer for my mistakes. It's always others that suffer and die because there's something more I could have done that I didn't think of, or did but thought I could beat."
He takes a deep breath, shuttering but stronger than before. More even. This is normal, this is what he sees of himself every day, looking back at him. An exhausted failure of a man who is just trying his best and always comes up short of his own expectations. "I know I'm nice, I'm charming, I try to be kind and friendly and loving. I'm clever and insightful and these are inherently dangerous things to be when I'm still a failure in leadership. I draw people in, people I love, and convince them to follow, and get them hurt, captured, or killed."
He puts his other hand over Chris' in his, gently covering as if it's a bird he's trying to keep from flying off. Gaze firmly on their fingers, Hawke's expression is vulnerable and tender, raw in a way that even he doesn't normally project. There's a self awareness that he buries of habit and duty but has bubbled to the surface in the wake of ebbing emotion and that's what sits before Chris now. Raw and brutal honesty. "But Maker help me I can't let them go."