"I'm sorry," it's whispered as Chris pulls away. It's his fault. He'd asked, pleaded to Chris with his gaze to keep going when even Wolfe'd had the urge to fight too. He'd been too frightened. Scared of how that would have ended and then he fought anyway, after the fact, and found out. They should have fought.
It wasn't worth it.
Chris isn't looking at him - can't look at him - and a lump forms in Wolfe's throat that he can't quite choke down, but his tears stop. His trembling stops. The pressure on his chest remains but it's the same as it had been in Kirkwall so much of the time, there so much that it simply became part of him.
"I don't think you're a bad person," he shares quietly, standing still and watching Chris move from him. "Bad people don't worry if they're bad. They don't think of themselves as monsters for crossing their own lines, just that that it must have been justified or they wouldn't have made that decision."
He runs a hand across his face, doing what little he can to dry it, then looks at his palm. "Dying for someone doesn't make you a good person. It just makes you dead. Or here, it makes you forget for a time, but that isn't the point I'm trying to make."
Finally, he's able to swallow that back and speak from the chest. He feels calmer, that numb sort of calm that comes over him when he's facing a crisis. Maybe he is. Maybe he has been this entire time and just hadn't realized. "The point is they took something from you to make you do it. They had to artificially drag the tyrant to the fore. You, my Chris, are not that. You're capable of it, but it doesn't define you. Grieve that it's there, hate us both for complicity, but don't you ever believe that it's all that makes you."
Pressing his lips into a thin line, Wolfe resolutely steps back into Chris' space. He puts his hands on his love's shoulders and he kisses his forehead with probably more pressure than necessary. "Don't leave me because you're afraid of yourself."
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It wasn't worth it.
Chris isn't looking at him - can't look at him - and a lump forms in Wolfe's throat that he can't quite choke down, but his tears stop. His trembling stops. The pressure on his chest remains but it's the same as it had been in Kirkwall so much of the time, there so much that it simply became part of him.
"I don't think you're a bad person," he shares quietly, standing still and watching Chris move from him. "Bad people don't worry if they're bad. They don't think of themselves as monsters for crossing their own lines, just that that it must have been justified or they wouldn't have made that decision."
He runs a hand across his face, doing what little he can to dry it, then looks at his palm. "Dying for someone doesn't make you a good person. It just makes you dead. Or here, it makes you forget for a time, but that isn't the point I'm trying to make."
Finally, he's able to swallow that back and speak from the chest. He feels calmer, that numb sort of calm that comes over him when he's facing a crisis. Maybe he is. Maybe he has been this entire time and just hadn't realized. "The point is they took something from you to make you do it. They had to artificially drag the tyrant to the fore. You, my Chris, are not that. You're capable of it, but it doesn't define you. Grieve that it's there, hate us both for complicity, but don't you ever believe that it's all that makes you."
Pressing his lips into a thin line, Wolfe resolutely steps back into Chris' space. He puts his hands on his love's shoulders and he kisses his forehead with probably more pressure than necessary. "Don't leave me because you're afraid of yourself."