[ the change in ash's voice hits him hard, his eyes closing as he remembers a night in the barracks all those years ago when he'd twisted the knife as hard as he could and sold the lie that would haunt him for the rest of his life. sold it so fucking well that he had ash hopelessly, cruelly fooled all this time. easy enough to believe that embry is incapable of love, of normal human feelings that aren't twisted up into something ugly and wrong. frankly, not all of it's a lie. there is something wrong with him. ]
It's better this way.
[ as brittle as sun-bleached bone and just as fragile. it's been too long for it to be anything else. the what-ifs will kill him, the many branching paths that could've been his life, a proposal in a valley that could've been his, ash kissing jenny at the altar when it might've been his lips instead. they could've had years of domesticity by now instead of a violent collection of stolen moments around d.c. a torrid, tragic love affair. ]
You can hate what I did. But anyone who loved you less would've been selfish with you. And everything else is just a fantasy you made up in your head.
( this is familiar to him, the feeling of crying over embry moore. his eyes are wet — if they were in person he'd turn away from embry, not wanting to show him what an ache he is, how much he hurts. they're not beside each other though, and ash just screws his eyes shut, audibly letting one ragged breath fall out of his mouth. fifteen years, and every no was merlin's fault. what is he supposed to do with that?
the knife of it's better this way is a good pain, because it's nice to know embry can still get under his skin, can still say the exact wrong thing, can still hurt ash like no one else. )
I didn't ask you to do that. I'd never want you to. Damnit, Embry, don't you think I want you to be selfish with me? Haven't I always been selfish with you?
( he's pleading, desperate. he thumps his forehead hard against the wall, rocking his brow back and forth on the wallpaper. )
Why? Why is it better this way, if we love each other, if we both wanted to be together, if we've both been heartbroken and suffering for fifteen years? How is that any better?
[ a ragged truth ripped from his lips. he's so fucking glad they're not in the same room because he can hear how he's wounded ash (again), can hear the tears thick in his voice — and yet, some part of him wishes he was there to see it, because then he'd push and push and push until ash shoved him to the floor and made him eat shit for every hurt, every lie, every fucked up thing he's done for more than a decade both behind his back and right in front of his face.
it's okay that embry has been heartbroken and suffering all this time. but to put ash through this? he knows that when all of this misery is finally over for good, when whatever god or devil he doesn't believe in comes to collect, he's not going wherever ash and greer are. he's going straight to hell for what he's done, do not pass go, do not collect two-hundred fucking dollars. ]
What good does it do to stand there and try to make me think about everything we could've had? It's better this way because it's all I've had to hold onto since all this shit started. Do you think I haven't already had every thought going through your mind right now? I know you'd never ask. I know you'd never want this. But you were always meant for something bigger than us, and if our positions were reversed, if you could see yourself the way I see you, you would've done the same goddamn thing.
[ no, he wouldn't. because ash is not a piece of shit like he is. he breathes in deeply, trying to quell the urge to throw his phone against the wall. ]
( the audacity of the request at least stirs the pain from his voice long enough to huff out a disbelieving, single laugh. only embry could piss on his head and tell him it's raining — think that he deserves a thank you for listening to merlin, who is apparently a giant fucking (potentially homophobic) jackass. all this from both of them, in the blind and almost supernatural belief in whatever goodness there is in ash.
ash, the man who fucked and impregnated and abandoned his sister. ash, so loathsome that even his parents didn't want him. it would've been easier if embry said he couldn't marry him because he knew about lyr, because he knew, inherently, what a wretched sinner ash was, too horrible even for the sanctity of confessional. instead, this. it's not because ash is awful. it's because ash is bigger than, he is greater than, he is more than. naturally, no one ever asked ash if he wanted to wear the crown — he wanted chickens and goats and cows in canada with embry. he wanted fat babies to chase around the farm. he wanted, shortly said, the happiness of a full life lived with the man he loves. instead, this. )
I'm not going to thank you for breaking my fucking heart.
[ of course he won't. if he digs past his anger, his hurt, he knows the truth is that he doesn't deserve anything from ash. not his friendship, not his love, and certainly not his gratitude. but he promised to take you any way he could have you. ]
Then thank me for breaking mine for you.
[ he locates his balls just in time to hang up on ash, not just knowing the consequences will come later, but hoping that they do. ]
( embry hanging up on him mid conversation is maybe the least surprising thing in this whole talk — and, after the hot, indignant rage that flares up him for half a minute flatlines, ash eventually simmers. it wasn't a bad move, it's not like there was any progress to be made in this conversation, and embry didn't need to stay here as a punching bag for ash's hurt. that's fine. he thinks about going to meet him, about fucking him as meanly and nasty as he can, about tying his dick up and cinching his balls, about cumming on his back and rubbing it into him like lotion. embry is surely expecting it. but, possibly, he has a better idea. )
I need to cool off. I'll find you tomorrow. Do not hide from me, or I will hunt you down.
( if embry knows ash isn't coming for him, he'll probably look for someone else to pummel against. it might be hawk. but it could be greer — and that's where ash will be, waiting to play barbies again. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
It's better this way.
[ as brittle as sun-bleached bone and just as fragile. it's been too long for it to be anything else. the what-ifs will kill him, the many branching paths that could've been his life, a proposal in a valley that could've been his, ash kissing jenny at the altar when it might've been his lips instead. they could've had years of domesticity by now instead of a violent collection of stolen moments around d.c. a torrid, tragic love affair. ]
You can hate what I did. But anyone who loved you less would've been selfish with you. And everything else is just a fantasy you made up in your head.
no subject
the knife of it's better this way is a good pain, because it's nice to know embry can still get under his skin, can still say the exact wrong thing, can still hurt ash like no one else. )
I didn't ask you to do that. I'd never want you to. Damnit, Embry, don't you think I want you to be selfish with me? Haven't I always been selfish with you?
( he's pleading, desperate. he thumps his forehead hard against the wall, rocking his brow back and forth on the wallpaper. )
Why? Why is it better this way, if we love each other, if we both wanted to be together, if we've both been heartbroken and suffering for fifteen years? How is that any better?
no subject
[ a ragged truth ripped from his lips. he's so fucking glad they're not in the same room because he can hear how he's wounded ash (again), can hear the tears thick in his voice — and yet, some part of him wishes he was there to see it, because then he'd push and push and push until ash shoved him to the floor and made him eat shit for every hurt, every lie, every fucked up thing he's done for more than a decade both behind his back and right in front of his face.
it's okay that embry has been heartbroken and suffering all this time. but to put ash through this? he knows that when all of this misery is finally over for good, when whatever god or devil he doesn't believe in comes to collect, he's not going wherever ash and greer are. he's going straight to hell for what he's done, do not pass go, do not collect two-hundred fucking dollars. ]
What good does it do to stand there and try to make me think about everything we could've had? It's better this way because it's all I've had to hold onto since all this shit started. Do you think I haven't already had every thought going through your mind right now? I know you'd never ask. I know you'd never want this. But you were always meant for something bigger than us, and if our positions were reversed, if you could see yourself the way I see you, you would've done the same goddamn thing.
[ no, he wouldn't. because ash is not a piece of shit like he is. he breathes in deeply, trying to quell the urge to throw his phone against the wall. ]
Jesus fuck, you could at least say thank you.
no subject
( the audacity of the request at least stirs the pain from his voice long enough to huff out a disbelieving, single laugh. only embry could piss on his head and tell him it's raining — think that he deserves a thank you for listening to merlin, who is apparently a giant fucking (potentially homophobic) jackass. all this from both of them, in the blind and almost supernatural belief in whatever goodness there is in ash.
ash, the man who fucked and impregnated and abandoned his sister. ash, so loathsome that even his parents didn't want him. it would've been easier if embry said he couldn't marry him because he knew about lyr, because he knew, inherently, what a wretched sinner ash was, too horrible even for the sanctity of confessional. instead, this. it's not because ash is awful. it's because ash is bigger than, he is greater than, he is more than. naturally, no one ever asked ash if he wanted to wear the crown — he wanted chickens and goats and cows in canada with embry. he wanted fat babies to chase around the farm. he wanted, shortly said, the happiness of a full life lived with the man he loves. instead, this. )
I'm not going to thank you for breaking my fucking heart.
no subject
Then thank me for breaking mine for you.
[ he locates his balls just in time to hang up on ash, not just knowing the consequences will come later, but hoping that they do. ]
→ text
I need to cool off. I'll find you tomorrow.
Do not hide from me, or I will hunt you down.
( if embry knows ash isn't coming for him, he'll probably look for someone else to pummel against. it might be hawk. but it could be greer — and that's where ash will be, waiting to play barbies again. )