The German listened to the other's words in silence, letting the younger man finish his thoughts as rough fingers unhooked the pot, lifting it carefully over the other man's shoulders. In the ideal world, he would have let the water heat a bit more - would have mixed in a bit of alcohol for more purification properties - but he didn't have alcohol, and time was of the essence for cleansing the wound if there was, indeed, infection in it.
"They are." He finally answered, after a long pause of silence and stillness. A catch in his throat; eyes dry but voice tight as the memories flooded back and for the first time, he admitted out loud the memories that he struggled to keep at bay, the nightmares that kept him up at night. "I killed them when they turned."
Let the younger man think what he would of that. Would he call Hansel a monster for killing his own family, even though they weren't themselves? Would he call Hansel a murderer, for what he'd done? Would he call Hansel shameless, for admitting it?
It didn't matter - those were all things that Hansel called himself, every morning, when his eyes met the faded picture that he kept in his bedside drawer.
But that was the past - there was nothing that he could do for his family now. The man in front of him was the present - he needed Hansel's attention.
Standing straight behind the other man, Hansel gripped the pot in both hands and slowly tipped it until drops of water dripped, splashing at the top of the wound and trickling down the other man's back - ensnaring with them on their journey droplets of blood and dirt, remaining traces of impurities, before staining the back of the man's trousers with little wet marks. It must have been uncomfortable for the younger man, and Hansel wished that he'd thought to grab a blanket or towel to dry the water before it wet the other man's trousers - but he didn't have any clean enough to allow near the wound.
He tried to be gentle - tried to ensure that the water droplets -steaming, hot - were spread out, not hitting the same area, tried, in vain, to bring the man the least amount of pain through the healing process as possible.
"If you do not like who you were, and you do not like who you have become, then perhaps you should recreate yourself, man of metal." The new nickname was said with a thick accent, the ghost of a fond smile gracing Hansel's lips as he halted his ministrations of healing for a moment to wipe sweat off of his forehead with his forearm, before resuming the slow trickle of water. "Just as nature has the ability to create forest fires in order to burn down what was old and rotten and make way for the new growth of a healthier ecosystem, humans are capable of rewriting who they are. If you do not like who your past has made you in to, then choose a future where you can escape it. Create for yourself a fresh start."
If you are afraid to go home, then make yourself a new home.
It had been some time since he had allowed himself to think philosophically. Isolation from the rest of humanity had destroyed his enjoyment of peeking past the curtain of ordinary and contemplating the mechanisms of life, but something about the younger man's words brought seeds of epistemology back into his mind. This was the first human conversation he'd had since...
This was, perhaps, the most he had ever spoken to anyone, other than his family, about such serious subjects. Perhaps it took the end of the world as it was known to make him open up, but either way - he could imagine his Oma smiling down at him from wherever she had ended up, telling him that it was about time he opened his mouth for another human being. Carer of animals, knowledgeable guide, silent guardian, she had used to call him.
The man's sudden tense had all of Hansel's actions stopping abruptly, lip of the pot tilting up to cease the dribble of cleansing, purified water.
"Is this... okay?" Does it hurt - is it too much? is what he meant, but the words couldn't pass through his voice. They felt almost too caring, too protective - it was getting more difficult to remember that this... that Jasper was still a potential danger by the moment, as more and more of the German's own story bled out to join the watery mixture riveting down the other man's back.
The German listened to the other's words in silence, letting the younger man finish his thoughts as rough fingers unhooked the pot, lifting it carefully over the other man's shoulders. In the ideal world, he would have let the water heat a bit more - would have mixed in a bit of alcohol for more purification properties - but he didn't have alcohol, and time was of the essence for cleansing the wound if there was, indeed, infection in it.
"They are." He finally answered, after a long pause of silence and stillness. A catch in his throat; eyes dry but voice tight as the memories flooded back and for the first time, he admitted out loud the memories that he struggled to keep at bay, the nightmares that kept him up at night. "I killed them when they turned."
Let the younger man think what he would of that. Would he call Hansel a monster for killing his own family, even though they weren't themselves? Would he call Hansel a murderer, for what he'd done? Would he call Hansel shameless, for admitting it?
It didn't matter - those were all things that Hansel called himself, every morning, when his eyes met the faded picture that he kept in his bedside drawer.
But that was the past - there was nothing that he could do for his family now. The man in front of him was the present - he needed Hansel's attention.
Standing straight behind the other man, Hansel gripped the pot in both hands and slowly tipped it until drops of water dripped, splashing at the top of the wound and trickling down the other man's back - ensnaring with them on their journey droplets of blood and dirt, remaining traces of impurities, before staining the back of the man's trousers with little wet marks. It must have been uncomfortable for the younger man, and Hansel wished that he'd thought to grab a blanket or towel to dry the water before it wet the other man's trousers - but he didn't have any clean enough to allow near the wound.
He tried to be gentle - tried to ensure that the water droplets -steaming, hot - were spread out, not hitting the same area, tried, in vain, to bring the man the least amount of pain through the healing process as possible.
"If you do not like who you were, and you do not like who you have become, then perhaps you should recreate yourself, man of metal." The new nickname was said with a thick accent, the ghost of a fond smile gracing Hansel's lips as he halted his ministrations of healing for a moment to wipe sweat off of his forehead with his forearm, before resuming the slow trickle of water. "Just as nature has the ability to create forest fires in order to burn down what was old and rotten and make way for the new growth of a healthier ecosystem, humans are capable of rewriting who they are. If you do not like who your past has made you in to, then choose a future where you can escape it. Create for yourself a fresh start."
If you are afraid to go home, then make yourself a new home.
It had been some time since he had allowed himself to think philosophically. Isolation from the rest of humanity had destroyed his enjoyment of peeking past the curtain of ordinary and contemplating the mechanisms of life, but something about the younger man's words brought seeds of epistemology back into his mind. This was the first human conversation he'd had since...
This was, perhaps, the most he had ever spoken to anyone, other than his family, about such serious subjects. Perhaps it took the end of the world as it was known to make him open up, but either way - he could imagine his Oma smiling down at him from wherever she had ended up, telling him that it was about time he opened his mouth for another human being. Carer of animals, knowledgeable guide, silent guardian, she had used to call him.
The man's sudden tense had all of Hansel's actions stopping abruptly, lip of the pot tilting up to cease the dribble of cleansing, purified water.
"Is this... okay?" Does it hurt - is it too much? is what he meant, but the words couldn't pass through his voice. They felt almost too caring, too protective - it was getting more difficult to remember that this... that Jasper was still a potential danger by the moment, as more and more of the German's own story bled out to join the watery mixture riveting down the other man's back.
A look of genuine surprise crossed Jasper’s scarred visage, seeming to be caught off-guard by the willingness to admit that Hansel had to make a difficult choice in killing his own kin. The words stung him, at best, as it made the dark haired male remember having to end his dead mother’s life.
“I had to kill my mother because of the plague… All of my friends died before me as well…” His voice trailed off, a melancholic look in his cyan eyes.
Though a light sigh rolled off his tongue as the drops of water poured down his back like a running river, and Jasper seemed to be momentarily content. It was as if he was attempting to soak up every touch he received; whether it was by hand or inanimate object, that didn't so happen to hurt him.
However, that content feeling was quick to come to an end when Hansel spoke again. Sure, there were plenty of opportunities that the dark haired male had to redeem himself, to beg for forgiveness to those he has harmed in his past… But he felt too afraid to so, fearing he may be rejected and die without ever being forgiven… It was a thought he despised with all of his being.
“I have killed far too many to be welcomed into the golden gates. There is no use trying to fix who I am. I must live with my sins, and pay the price for it at the bitter end.” The dark haired male continued, hurt in his tone as his heart felt as if it was being stabbed by a steak knife. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he spoke, tightly knitting his thin, dark eyebrows as he seemed to confess his sins to a man he hardly knew.
Moving his flesh and metal hands to rest on his scarred facial features, Jasper simply covered his face as his cyan eyes grew misty once more. It took a lot out of him to not cry, to not plead with an invisible being for forgiveness, but he was determined to not break- not yet, at least.
“I thought that the day I was attacked by a beast that I would die… But I woke up with two new limbs and scars that whispered to me, ‘I deserve this’, it still haunts me, as do the innocent lives I've ended with my bare hands. I don't know why I survived, the world is mysterious.” Speaking in a wavering, slightly muffled tone, the dark haired male lightly grasped his jet hued hair that rested upon his forehead with his fleshy hand, pushing them back as he slowly removed both hands from his face to let them rest back on his lap.
He’s trying to be reassuring, you idiot. But Jasper realized this a bit too late.
He seemed to fall into a momentary silence, simply listening to the world around him; the light crackle of the fire, the drops of water, his own breath- until the other male’s words concerned words spilled from his lips.
“I feel fine, if that's what you mean. But I'll be sore.” Jasper murmured.
A look of genuine surprise crossed Jasper’s scarred visage, seeming to be caught off-guard by the willingness to admit that Hansel had to make a difficult choice in killing his own kin. The words stung him, at best, as it made the dark haired male remember having to end his dead mother’s life.
“I had to kill my mother because of the plague… All of my friends died before me as well…” His voice trailed off, a melancholic look in his cyan eyes.
Though a light sigh rolled off his tongue as the drops of water poured down his back like a running river, and Jasper seemed to be momentarily content. It was as if he was attempting to soak up every touch he received; whether it was by hand or inanimate object, that didn't so happen to hurt him.
However, that content feeling was quick to come to an end when Hansel spoke again. Sure, there were plenty of opportunities that the dark haired male had to redeem himself, to beg for forgiveness to those he has harmed in his past… But he felt too afraid to so, fearing he may be rejected and die without ever being forgiven… It was a thought he despised with all of his being.
“I have killed far too many to be welcomed into the golden gates. There is no use trying to fix who I am. I must live with my sins, and pay the price for it at the bitter end.” The dark haired male continued, hurt in his tone as his heart felt as if it was being stabbed by a steak knife. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he spoke, tightly knitting his thin, dark eyebrows as he seemed to confess his sins to a man he hardly knew.
Moving his flesh and metal hands to rest on his scarred facial features, Jasper simply covered his face as his cyan eyes grew misty once more. It took a lot out of him to not cry, to not plead with an invisible being for forgiveness, but he was determined to not break- not yet, at least.
“I thought that the day I was attacked by a beast that I would die… But I woke up with two new limbs and scars that whispered to me, ‘I deserve this’, it still haunts me, as do the innocent lives I've ended with my bare hands. I don't know why I survived, the world is mysterious.” Speaking in a wavering, slightly muffled tone, the dark haired male lightly grasped his jet hued hair that rested upon his forehead with his fleshy hand, pushing them back as he slowly removed both hands from his face to let them rest back on his lap.
He’s trying to be reassuring, you idiot. But Jasper realized this a bit too late.
He seemed to fall into a momentary silence, simply listening to the world around him; the light crackle of the fire, the drops of water, his own breath- until the other male’s words concerned words spilled from his lips.
“I feel fine, if that's what you mean. But I'll be sore.” Jasper murmured.
Discord: .xielian | he/him | FR+2 | gay rights alone will save our clan
The revelation related to the other man's bloody history did not surprise Hansel in the least: he'd assumed, based on the haunted look that the younger man carried in his eyes, that there was immense pain in his past. Nowadays, Hansel imagined that anyone would be hard-pressed to find someone who didn't have blood on their hands - though, to an extent, Hansel shared the burden of the blood on Jasper's hands. Killing family... was, perhaps, more difficult a way to be born into this new world than any other.
He wished there was something he could say to the other - some comfort that he could give, but there was none that he could offer without lying, and he refused to lie to the other man. As a silent response - as actions spoke louder than words to the German -, he finished pouring the warm water with the same careful attention, watching as the final rivets ran down the man's back. The empty pot lowered to rest by his feet, a delicate touch of warm, callous-lined fingers brushing the other man's bare shoulder as a sign of support - offering his strength for the emotions that the other was trying to work through.
The touch disappeared as quickly as it had come, Hansel leaning down to grab the final cleansing proponent - dry leaves crackling in his hand as he crushed them and dusted the powder over the drying wound.
"There is always hope." The words came out soft spoken - soften than any he'd said as of yet. They were gentle, thoughtful but firm in their belief... wounded, with the scars of a past that had forced him to such a realization. "If you live believing that there is no hope..."
The leaves dropped back into the basket from which they had been picked up, healing ministrations ceasing. "I have only said this once before, to someone much like yourself, and I am only going to say this once more, so please listen." Passion laced his voice, hazel eyes without a glimmer of joke or trickery in them as he came around to stand in front of the other man, gazing down at Jasper. "You are not your sins. You may not be able to earn forgiveness from those that you've wronged - that is a hard truth that survivors must live with. You may not be able to fix what you have done. But you do not have to allow your sins to chain you to the existence that led to them."
He'd never acquire forgiveness from his parents for the fact that he hadn't closed the door to the cabin when they had asked. He'd never acquire forgiveness from his Oma for not ending her life while she still had her wits about her. He'd never get his sister's forgiveness for... It was too late to ask for forgiveness from them - even if they could hear him now. There were some things that could not be forgiven. But he could live to be someone that they would be proud of.
That is what gave him hope.
Standing above the other man, who was seated due to the nature of their interaction, Hansel felt as if he were in a position of authority - and so, feeling sheepish and quite a bit foolish, he allowed his body to collapse into a crouch, eliminating the height distance and effectively placing himself lower than the other - less authority, less force, less of a threat.
Animal logic, but in the past it had worked on humans as well.
The other man hadn't kill him on sight. Even injured, he did not doubt that Jasper could have put up a fight - come out victorious, if the tides had turned against Hansel.
"I don't think that you are as bad of a person as you seem, Jasper no-last-name." The barest ghost of a reassuring smile grazed his lips, though it may have been lost in the gruff nature of his visage. "Real monsters don't tear up when they think of the crimes that they have committed."
The revelation related to the other man's bloody history did not surprise Hansel in the least: he'd assumed, based on the haunted look that the younger man carried in his eyes, that there was immense pain in his past. Nowadays, Hansel imagined that anyone would be hard-pressed to find someone who didn't have blood on their hands - though, to an extent, Hansel shared the burden of the blood on Jasper's hands. Killing family... was, perhaps, more difficult a way to be born into this new world than any other.
He wished there was something he could say to the other - some comfort that he could give, but there was none that he could offer without lying, and he refused to lie to the other man. As a silent response - as actions spoke louder than words to the German -, he finished pouring the warm water with the same careful attention, watching as the final rivets ran down the man's back. The empty pot lowered to rest by his feet, a delicate touch of warm, callous-lined fingers brushing the other man's bare shoulder as a sign of support - offering his strength for the emotions that the other was trying to work through.
The touch disappeared as quickly as it had come, Hansel leaning down to grab the final cleansing proponent - dry leaves crackling in his hand as he crushed them and dusted the powder over the drying wound.
"There is always hope." The words came out soft spoken - soften than any he'd said as of yet. They were gentle, thoughtful but firm in their belief... wounded, with the scars of a past that had forced him to such a realization. "If you live believing that there is no hope..."
The leaves dropped back into the basket from which they had been picked up, healing ministrations ceasing. "I have only said this once before, to someone much like yourself, and I am only going to say this once more, so please listen." Passion laced his voice, hazel eyes without a glimmer of joke or trickery in them as he came around to stand in front of the other man, gazing down at Jasper. "You are not your sins. You may not be able to earn forgiveness from those that you've wronged - that is a hard truth that survivors must live with. You may not be able to fix what you have done. But you do not have to allow your sins to chain you to the existence that led to them."
He'd never acquire forgiveness from his parents for the fact that he hadn't closed the door to the cabin when they had asked. He'd never acquire forgiveness from his Oma for not ending her life while she still had her wits about her. He'd never get his sister's forgiveness for... It was too late to ask for forgiveness from them - even if they could hear him now. There were some things that could not be forgiven. But he could live to be someone that they would be proud of.
That is what gave him hope.
Standing above the other man, who was seated due to the nature of their interaction, Hansel felt as if he were in a position of authority - and so, feeling sheepish and quite a bit foolish, he allowed his body to collapse into a crouch, eliminating the height distance and effectively placing himself lower than the other - less authority, less force, less of a threat.
Animal logic, but in the past it had worked on humans as well.
The other man hadn't kill him on sight. Even injured, he did not doubt that Jasper could have put up a fight - come out victorious, if the tides had turned against Hansel.
"I don't think that you are as bad of a person as you seem, Jasper no-last-name." The barest ghost of a reassuring smile grazed his lips, though it may have been lost in the gruff nature of his visage. "Real monsters don't tear up when they think of the crimes that they have committed."
He wasn’t sure why, but the gentle touch upon his scarred shoulder that was provided by the other male made him feel more… At ease, at the very least. It was as if his troubles seemed to vanish into thin air, the burden of carrying the blood of innocent lives were gone- albeit this was on a temporary feeling, since as soon as the lingering touch was gone, Jasper exhaled a shaky breath while his troubles came back shortly after.
Still unable to wrap his head around how such a simple touch from a man he hardly knew could set his broke, tainted soul at ease, the dark haired male simply stared at his metal and fleshy hands, confusion lingering in his cyan eyes until his gaze trailed upwards, expression shifting to his signature neutral look as he listened to Hansel speak.
With his mouth partially agape as he simply took in what the other male had to say in regards to the sins he has caused with his own two hands, Jasper’s cyan eyes clouded, welling up with tears as he felt as if the sins were beginning to lift from his mortal flesh, feeling as if he was forgiven. In the end, it didn’t seem to matter who forgave him for the lives he ended, but as long as someone was willing to, it was all he needed.
It was like receiving an open-chest wound, the words cut deep into his scarred flesh, but it was different from any scar that littered his body with plague; it was like a scar that would heal completely, something Jasper could only wish for, along with hoping for his soul to mend and be whole like it used to be- albeit this was almost impossible.
There were a lot of things in this new world that were impossible.
Suddenly, Jasper did feel as if he had hope. It was new, like a burnt out flame reigniting within his heart… Such a foreign feeling, it was, a look of shock crossed the dark haired male’s features, albeit only momentarily before he began to relax once more, cyan gaze carefully scanning the other male’s visage as he crouched before him- definitely not something he exactly expected.
How have I gone so long without hearing words like these? Jasper asked himself, listening in silence as Hansel spoke in a gentle, yet unintentionally gruff tone. Upon hearing the words tell him that he wasn’t a monster and that he was still human, it seemed to be the last tether left within his broken and scarred body that held his defensive demeanor strong.
He broke.
“Thank you.” Were the only audible words that spilled forth from the dark haired male’s scarred lips, the rest was either inaudible or in his native French tongue as he felt the silent drops of his own tears pour from his cyan eyes, and Jasper moved his hands just a tad forward, as if he was about to envelope the other man within an embrace that would reflect his inner gratitude for being told genuine words that he thought he would have to die before he heard- but hesitated, clenching both metal and fleshy hands alike into a tight fist before letting them drop back into his lap, hanging his head in the process whilst his jet hued hair simultaneously fell to cover his now hidden, scarred visage.
The tears didn’t cease to stop, either, in fact, they kept falling from his clouded cyan eyes. Tears he had held back from years of suffering exploded from his eyes, and the dark haired male could do nothing to stop them, his breath occasionally faltering as he took a shaky inhale, the only true signs of his otherwise hushed sobbing.
Jasper felt weak and vulnerable, two emotions that could break you and cause you to wind up dead, but that didn’t seem to matter much to him at this point.
He wasn’t sure why, but the gentle touch upon his scarred shoulder that was provided by the other male made him feel more… At ease, at the very least. It was as if his troubles seemed to vanish into thin air, the burden of carrying the blood of innocent lives were gone- albeit this was on a temporary feeling, since as soon as the lingering touch was gone, Jasper exhaled a shaky breath while his troubles came back shortly after.
Still unable to wrap his head around how such a simple touch from a man he hardly knew could set his broke, tainted soul at ease, the dark haired male simply stared at his metal and fleshy hands, confusion lingering in his cyan eyes until his gaze trailed upwards, expression shifting to his signature neutral look as he listened to Hansel speak.
With his mouth partially agape as he simply took in what the other male had to say in regards to the sins he has caused with his own two hands, Jasper’s cyan eyes clouded, welling up with tears as he felt as if the sins were beginning to lift from his mortal flesh, feeling as if he was forgiven. In the end, it didn’t seem to matter who forgave him for the lives he ended, but as long as someone was willing to, it was all he needed.
It was like receiving an open-chest wound, the words cut deep into his scarred flesh, but it was different from any scar that littered his body with plague; it was like a scar that would heal completely, something Jasper could only wish for, along with hoping for his soul to mend and be whole like it used to be- albeit this was almost impossible.
There were a lot of things in this new world that were impossible.
Suddenly, Jasper did feel as if he had hope. It was new, like a burnt out flame reigniting within his heart… Such a foreign feeling, it was, a look of shock crossed the dark haired male’s features, albeit only momentarily before he began to relax once more, cyan gaze carefully scanning the other male’s visage as he crouched before him- definitely not something he exactly expected.
How have I gone so long without hearing words like these? Jasper asked himself, listening in silence as Hansel spoke in a gentle, yet unintentionally gruff tone. Upon hearing the words tell him that he wasn’t a monster and that he was still human, it seemed to be the last tether left within his broken and scarred body that held his defensive demeanor strong.
He broke.
“Thank you.” Were the only audible words that spilled forth from the dark haired male’s scarred lips, the rest was either inaudible or in his native French tongue as he felt the silent drops of his own tears pour from his cyan eyes, and Jasper moved his hands just a tad forward, as if he was about to envelope the other man within an embrace that would reflect his inner gratitude for being told genuine words that he thought he would have to die before he heard- but hesitated, clenching both metal and fleshy hands alike into a tight fist before letting them drop back into his lap, hanging his head in the process whilst his jet hued hair simultaneously fell to cover his now hidden, scarred visage.
The tears didn’t cease to stop, either, in fact, they kept falling from his clouded cyan eyes. Tears he had held back from years of suffering exploded from his eyes, and the dark haired male could do nothing to stop them, his breath occasionally faltering as he took a shaky inhale, the only true signs of his otherwise hushed sobbing.
Jasper felt weak and vulnerable, two emotions that could break you and cause you to wind up dead, but that didn’t seem to matter much to him at this point.
Discord: .xielian | he/him | FR+2 | gay rights alone will save our clan
Watching the emotions shift, coming and going, each new one plucking at the heartstrings of the German more than the one it was replacing - as if the emotions were ripples across the surface of a body of water - was breathtaking. He'd almost expected the younger man to scoff at him, to turn him away, to tell him that he was foolish for holding the beliefs that he held. Sometimes he himself felt foolish, yet his belief in their truth had never once wavered. Never had Hansel expected the man to... take his words to heart.
From guarded to blatantly listening, from tearing up to... shock, followed by a thanks. It was astounding, to see such reaction from a man who had held on so blatantly to a mask of stoicism and calm. As if the man had decided to trust him - had decided to let his walls down and finally allow the trace of honesty to grace his features. Finally allowed himself to feel something without being clouded by shame.
It warmed the German's heart, to see the change - the beginnings of a smile tugging the corners of chapped lips up, hazel eyes softening and corners drooping into warmth. He couldn't begin to imagine what the other was going through - the internal struggle, the mental war that caused such a flurry of emotions - but he could relate to the process of having to work through and wage that war against yourself. There was no more difficult opponent to conquer, no more difficult opinion to change - than your own.
He'd already been there. He'd already scarred himself internally, torn himself apart - and, piece by aching piece, put himself back together. Reassembled himself into someone he didn't have to be ashamed of. Perhaps the other man would be able to do the same.
The twitch of the other man's hands did not go unnoticed. Hazel eyes dropped to watch their movement with thinly veiled curiosity, feeling no fear as they approached- and fell away. Should the man have wished to strike at him, there was very little he could have done to protect himself in his current position. But he didn't worry about that - something about the other man told Hansel that he was safe at Jasper's mercy.
There was something in the fearful vulnerability that Jasper showed that brought the rest of Hansel's guards crashing down. All thought of danger was gone - the stranger in front of him was inherently dangerous, but Jasper wasn't: he was just another human, hurting from an invisible wound that none of Hansel's homemade cures could heal.
Wounds that could only by healed by something of a deeper nature.
A hand rose on its own accord, no hesitation to be found as rough, callous-lined fingers brushed away tears from a scarred cheek. Tears. When was the last time that he had seen anybody cry? Seen such inner pain from someone surface openly in front of him?
Without thinking his actions through, the German straightened up into an uncomfortable semi-crouch, bringing himself to the same height as the man seated on the stool. Arms wrapped carefully around the other man's shoulders - careful not to aggravate the wound on Jasper's back, careful not to assume too many privileges, loose enough to be cast aside should the other man reject his offering of comfort.
It was an awkward embrace; a hug with forced space between them due to the angle that the German had to bend at in order to wrap his arms around the younger man's shoulders. It was awkward - because Hansel couldn't remember having ever given another man a hug.
"You are welcome." The words were spoken into dark hair, dark lashes falling over hazel eyes as Hansel's eyes closed, taking in the sound of his own heart beating. The smell of pine and burning logs. Trying to offer his peace to the other.
"Do not forget that you are human, Jasper. Not a murderer, not a sinner. You are human."
Watching the emotions shift, coming and going, each new one plucking at the heartstrings of the German more than the one it was replacing - as if the emotions were ripples across the surface of a body of water - was breathtaking. He'd almost expected the younger man to scoff at him, to turn him away, to tell him that he was foolish for holding the beliefs that he held. Sometimes he himself felt foolish, yet his belief in their truth had never once wavered. Never had Hansel expected the man to... take his words to heart.
From guarded to blatantly listening, from tearing up to... shock, followed by a thanks. It was astounding, to see such reaction from a man who had held on so blatantly to a mask of stoicism and calm. As if the man had decided to trust him - had decided to let his walls down and finally allow the trace of honesty to grace his features. Finally allowed himself to feel something without being clouded by shame.
It warmed the German's heart, to see the change - the beginnings of a smile tugging the corners of chapped lips up, hazel eyes softening and corners drooping into warmth. He couldn't begin to imagine what the other was going through - the internal struggle, the mental war that caused such a flurry of emotions - but he could relate to the process of having to work through and wage that war against yourself. There was no more difficult opponent to conquer, no more difficult opinion to change - than your own.
He'd already been there. He'd already scarred himself internally, torn himself apart - and, piece by aching piece, put himself back together. Reassembled himself into someone he didn't have to be ashamed of. Perhaps the other man would be able to do the same.
The twitch of the other man's hands did not go unnoticed. Hazel eyes dropped to watch their movement with thinly veiled curiosity, feeling no fear as they approached- and fell away. Should the man have wished to strike at him, there was very little he could have done to protect himself in his current position. But he didn't worry about that - something about the other man told Hansel that he was safe at Jasper's mercy.
There was something in the fearful vulnerability that Jasper showed that brought the rest of Hansel's guards crashing down. All thought of danger was gone - the stranger in front of him was inherently dangerous, but Jasper wasn't: he was just another human, hurting from an invisible wound that none of Hansel's homemade cures could heal.
Wounds that could only by healed by something of a deeper nature.
A hand rose on its own accord, no hesitation to be found as rough, callous-lined fingers brushed away tears from a scarred cheek. Tears. When was the last time that he had seen anybody cry? Seen such inner pain from someone surface openly in front of him?
Without thinking his actions through, the German straightened up into an uncomfortable semi-crouch, bringing himself to the same height as the man seated on the stool. Arms wrapped carefully around the other man's shoulders - careful not to aggravate the wound on Jasper's back, careful not to assume too many privileges, loose enough to be cast aside should the other man reject his offering of comfort.
It was an awkward embrace; a hug with forced space between them due to the angle that the German had to bend at in order to wrap his arms around the younger man's shoulders. It was awkward - because Hansel couldn't remember having ever given another man a hug.
"You are welcome." The words were spoken into dark hair, dark lashes falling over hazel eyes as Hansel's eyes closed, taking in the sound of his own heart beating. The smell of pine and burning logs. Trying to offer his peace to the other.
"Do not forget that you are human, Jasper. Not a murderer, not a sinner. You are human."
It was still so strange to receive such gentle touches, especially from a man who looked like he could do plenty of damage if he so wanted to… Yet he chose to be soft, and the hand that briefly rested upon the dark haired male’s scarred cheek to simply wipe the tears from his eyes caused Jasper to tense momentarily… He didn’t think this was something he would ever get used to.
This tense body language didn’t appear to cease when the dark haired male watched Hansel shift his posture to lean forward, and he feared for the worst. A number of bad possibilities could occur, and it was quite normal for Jasper’s mind to immediately jump to conclusions, most of which were primarily negative.
He was surprised to find that he was instead enveloped within a warm embrace, clouded cyan eyes growing wide with a look of complete and utter shock, as a hug was something he would have never thought to receive in so many more years to come… It was so soothing, so welcoming… I’m safe. Jasper realized.
With the utmost caution and care he could muster at that given moment, the dark haired male slowly lifted both metal and fleshy arms alike to simply wrap them around the other male’s shoulders, originally intended to respond with a gentle grasp, but because his calm demeanor was ultimately shattered by such a heartwarming gesture of affection, this was just a feeble attempt that proved to be futile.
Almost within a manner of desperation, Jasper clung as if his life depended on it to the fabric on Hansel’s top, dipping his scarred visage to hide his face within the crook of the other male’s neck, the tears gradually began to cease to spill from his cyan eyes, and they had quickly managed to reduce down to a few occasional drops, much like water dripping slowly from a roof after a storm.
The calm after a storm, that was that he could describe this moment as.
Simply taking in the warmth and comfort provided to him by the other male, Jasper was able to reduce his grasp to a much lighter force like he had originally intended, cyan eyes staring past the fire through his jet hued hair that blocked most of the right side of his face. He wanted to savor such a pure, sweet moment. A moment that he was neglected of for many, many years.
“It’s been such a long time since I’ve felt welcomed.” The dark haired male spoke within a hushed tone, remembering back to when his father used to pick him up and spin him in a circle after a bad day. It always managed to cheer Jasper up- but he was too old for that, now. The only thing that could remain were gentle hugs that his mother often provided for him, even when she was ill and depressed. Jasper never got tired of them, hugs were always his comfort, no matter who provided them to him, as long as those embraces were gentle and genuine, the dark haired male had no reason to complain.
Perhaps it is truly better to keep on living. Are there more people still in this world like him? Jasper asked himself, unable to recall the last time he had even come across a sanctuary that would provide shelter and care. It was as if they were gone by now, though he wouldn’t be surprised if this was the case.
It was still so strange to receive such gentle touches, especially from a man who looked like he could do plenty of damage if he so wanted to… Yet he chose to be soft, and the hand that briefly rested upon the dark haired male’s scarred cheek to simply wipe the tears from his eyes caused Jasper to tense momentarily… He didn’t think this was something he would ever get used to.
This tense body language didn’t appear to cease when the dark haired male watched Hansel shift his posture to lean forward, and he feared for the worst. A number of bad possibilities could occur, and it was quite normal for Jasper’s mind to immediately jump to conclusions, most of which were primarily negative.
He was surprised to find that he was instead enveloped within a warm embrace, clouded cyan eyes growing wide with a look of complete and utter shock, as a hug was something he would have never thought to receive in so many more years to come… It was so soothing, so welcoming… I’m safe. Jasper realized.
With the utmost caution and care he could muster at that given moment, the dark haired male slowly lifted both metal and fleshy arms alike to simply wrap them around the other male’s shoulders, originally intended to respond with a gentle grasp, but because his calm demeanor was ultimately shattered by such a heartwarming gesture of affection, this was just a feeble attempt that proved to be futile.
Almost within a manner of desperation, Jasper clung as if his life depended on it to the fabric on Hansel’s top, dipping his scarred visage to hide his face within the crook of the other male’s neck, the tears gradually began to cease to spill from his cyan eyes, and they had quickly managed to reduce down to a few occasional drops, much like water dripping slowly from a roof after a storm.
The calm after a storm, that was that he could describe this moment as.
Simply taking in the warmth and comfort provided to him by the other male, Jasper was able to reduce his grasp to a much lighter force like he had originally intended, cyan eyes staring past the fire through his jet hued hair that blocked most of the right side of his face. He wanted to savor such a pure, sweet moment. A moment that he was neglected of for many, many years.
“It’s been such a long time since I’ve felt welcomed.” The dark haired male spoke within a hushed tone, remembering back to when his father used to pick him up and spin him in a circle after a bad day. It always managed to cheer Jasper up- but he was too old for that, now. The only thing that could remain were gentle hugs that his mother often provided for him, even when she was ill and depressed. Jasper never got tired of them, hugs were always his comfort, no matter who provided them to him, as long as those embraces were gentle and genuine, the dark haired male had no reason to complain.
Perhaps it is truly better to keep on living. Are there more people still in this world like him? Jasper asked himself, unable to recall the last time he had even come across a sanctuary that would provide shelter and care. It was as if they were gone by now, though he wouldn’t be surprised if this was the case.
Discord: .xielian | he/him | FR+2 | gay rights alone will save our clan
His body relaxed on its own accord as the other man sunk into the embrace, recognizing his actions as not a mistake, but welcome. He allowed his neck and shoulders to ease from their tensed states, chin bumping against the younger man's ear, shoulders dropping away from his own. It was remarkable, how much trust the other placed in him. They'd met not even hours ago, yet it seemed as if he'd somehow - miraculously, considering how they'd started off - earned the other's faith. It was not something he intended to throw away, it was unexpected certainly, but Hansel was finding the other to be a welcome invasion into his routine - not a burden, as he had previously assumed upon first meeting.
Eyelids blocked out the faint warm light cast by the fireplace, blocked out the sight of the man's marred back, blocked out the sight of the scars. Eyelids hid from the German the lies of the world, hid from him the harsh realities that brought dreams crashing to the ground - that twisted humanity into monstrosity, changed humans into hunters. With his eyes closed, the man who pressed into him with more strength than Hansel had thought necessary was just a man. The scars that marred his body - despite being important pieces of the man himself- did not exist. The tears that he could feel wetting the neckline of his tunic were not weakness, but openness.
He held unmoving and sturdy as arms tightened around him - flesh warm through the rough fabric of his shirt and metal almost painfully tight as it pressed into his human skin. He didn't speak up though, trusting the other not to use the full strength found in his metal appendage; taking a leap of faith and trusting the other not to hurt him. It was a strange position to be in, placing himself at the mercy of another person - as he had multiple times for this one man. And though he could feel his pride prickle and his survival instincts protest (albeit less) every time he did so, he could not find fault in it.
Strength, to him, was not just who was the strongest. Who was the sturdiest. Who was the best at controlling their emotions, at having the upper hand, at being in control. Strength, to him, was the ability to be strong in any given situation - applying the strength that the situation called for. Vulnerability, standing study, unbending, or making compromises. Holding fast and true to beliefs, or casting pride aside for peace. All signs of strength.
Being vulnerable, though, was surely the strongest thing he'd ever seen anymore do - and was the hardest thing for him to learn. To be vulnerable did not fall into the definition of a man, yet his Oma had taught him what being a true man meant. To be vulnerable was to trust others completely, to leave oneself open and defenseless, easy to attack and easy to hurt - and be completely and utterly oneself. To trust. If there was no strength in that, then strength itself did not exist.
And he'd always been someone's strength.
Hands were careful - always careful when touching the other man, keenly aware of the damaged flesh of his back, keenly aware of the scars and the unstable flurry of emotions, keenly aware that he'd not been given spoken permission to touch the other in any way -, raising up from where they had been pressed against bare shoulder blades. Fingers tangled in messy hair at the base of the other man's neck for a moment before raising to ruffle the hair gently.
A quiet laugh broke free from Hansel's lips, rumbling through his chest and shaking them both softly. It was a laugh of mixed wonderment and amusement, with a twinge of sadness upon hearing Jasper's words. "You are something special, Jasper no-last-name."
His body relaxed on its own accord as the other man sunk into the embrace, recognizing his actions as not a mistake, but welcome. He allowed his neck and shoulders to ease from their tensed states, chin bumping against the younger man's ear, shoulders dropping away from his own. It was remarkable, how much trust the other placed in him. They'd met not even hours ago, yet it seemed as if he'd somehow - miraculously, considering how they'd started off - earned the other's faith. It was not something he intended to throw away, it was unexpected certainly, but Hansel was finding the other to be a welcome invasion into his routine - not a burden, as he had previously assumed upon first meeting.
Eyelids blocked out the faint warm light cast by the fireplace, blocked out the sight of the man's marred back, blocked out the sight of the scars. Eyelids hid from the German the lies of the world, hid from him the harsh realities that brought dreams crashing to the ground - that twisted humanity into monstrosity, changed humans into hunters. With his eyes closed, the man who pressed into him with more strength than Hansel had thought necessary was just a man. The scars that marred his body - despite being important pieces of the man himself- did not exist. The tears that he could feel wetting the neckline of his tunic were not weakness, but openness.
He held unmoving and sturdy as arms tightened around him - flesh warm through the rough fabric of his shirt and metal almost painfully tight as it pressed into his human skin. He didn't speak up though, trusting the other not to use the full strength found in his metal appendage; taking a leap of faith and trusting the other not to hurt him. It was a strange position to be in, placing himself at the mercy of another person - as he had multiple times for this one man. And though he could feel his pride prickle and his survival instincts protest (albeit less) every time he did so, he could not find fault in it.
Strength, to him, was not just who was the strongest. Who was the sturdiest. Who was the best at controlling their emotions, at having the upper hand, at being in control. Strength, to him, was the ability to be strong in any given situation - applying the strength that the situation called for. Vulnerability, standing study, unbending, or making compromises. Holding fast and true to beliefs, or casting pride aside for peace. All signs of strength.
Being vulnerable, though, was surely the strongest thing he'd ever seen anymore do - and was the hardest thing for him to learn. To be vulnerable did not fall into the definition of a man, yet his Oma had taught him what being a true man meant. To be vulnerable was to trust others completely, to leave oneself open and defenseless, easy to attack and easy to hurt - and be completely and utterly oneself. To trust. If there was no strength in that, then strength itself did not exist.
And he'd always been someone's strength.
Hands were careful - always careful when touching the other man, keenly aware of the damaged flesh of his back, keenly aware of the scars and the unstable flurry of emotions, keenly aware that he'd not been given spoken permission to touch the other in any way -, raising up from where they had been pressed against bare shoulder blades. Fingers tangled in messy hair at the base of the other man's neck for a moment before raising to ruffle the hair gently.
A quiet laugh broke free from Hansel's lips, rumbling through his chest and shaking them both softly. It was a laugh of mixed wonderment and amusement, with a twinge of sadness upon hearing Jasper's words. "You are something special, Jasper no-last-name."
It felt as if he had remained in the other male's warm embrace for a rather long period of time, albeit this wasn't the case at all. Jasper could feel like he knew this man and that they weren't complete strangers just minutes ago, untrustworthy of one another and willing to put an end to one of their lives if the other attacked.
Despite his hostile nature, the man before him didn't seem to be intimidated at all by his words or his defensive body language, and though such a thing had previously worried the dark haired male, none of that seemed to matter by now.
All that Jasper assumed about Hansel was far from the truth, but murmuring an apology at that point would only cause more weak, shaken words to spill from his lips, and he didn't quite want to speak at that given moment, he only wanted to savor the warmth and care that this man was willing to provide.
He felt completely relaxed within the other’s arms, his tears gone, the strength in both metal and fleshy hands alike that had desperately grasped for contact gone as well, his prosthetic arm especially loosening its grip, as he seemed to often forget he had more strength in that arm that he thought he did. Jasper felt as if his past was no longer something he was hurt by or kept up at night by; he felt like he was reborn for a third time.
A miracle it was, truly.
Often times, the dark haired male wondered what his mother and father would have thought of him if they were still alive and could see all that he had done… He began to realize that they would despise him for his crimes, but that was to be expected; Jasper may not ever be able to be forgiven from the families that he robbed, but he was forgiven by someone he barely knew, yet he managed to spill forth his sins to this man, and maybe all along, that was all he needed to do.
Jasper was lucky, lucky that Hansel decided to not toss him out after hearing such a thing… Still, he only told the surface of his crimes, he had yet to reveal the depth of the iceberg.
But a sudden calloused hand ruffling his jet hued hair brought the dark haired male back to reality, and he remembered when his parents would ruffle his hair after he showed them his report card from school, telling him that they were proud of him… Did this also hold the same emotion? Jasper couldn't tell. Then again, he didn't think there was anything to be proud of from himself.
“You really think I'm special? Even after all I've done?” The dark haired male asked, his cyan gaze shining with a surprised look in them, but it wasn't visible due to his head still being hidden from the prying eyes of the cruel new world, his tone hushed and shaky to a small degree as he spoke.
So many words were spoken to Jasper, words that he thought he would never hear from anyone, words that gave him hope in the new world, and words that offered comfort and support.
“You're like someone I could have never imagined coming across. You still have hope and aren't anything like the people in gangs… It's strange how sincere you are, but I like it…” Jasper murmured within a gentler tone, wonder lacing his words as he spoke.
And he did something he never thought he would catch himself doing- he smiled; a genuine smile that tugged upwards at the corners of his lips. The dark haired male didn't fight it, either, he allowed this smile to grace his scarred visage.
It felt as if he had remained in the other male's warm embrace for a rather long period of time, albeit this wasn't the case at all. Jasper could feel like he knew this man and that they weren't complete strangers just minutes ago, untrustworthy of one another and willing to put an end to one of their lives if the other attacked.
Despite his hostile nature, the man before him didn't seem to be intimidated at all by his words or his defensive body language, and though such a thing had previously worried the dark haired male, none of that seemed to matter by now.
All that Jasper assumed about Hansel was far from the truth, but murmuring an apology at that point would only cause more weak, shaken words to spill from his lips, and he didn't quite want to speak at that given moment, he only wanted to savor the warmth and care that this man was willing to provide.
He felt completely relaxed within the other’s arms, his tears gone, the strength in both metal and fleshy hands alike that had desperately grasped for contact gone as well, his prosthetic arm especially loosening its grip, as he seemed to often forget he had more strength in that arm that he thought he did. Jasper felt as if his past was no longer something he was hurt by or kept up at night by; he felt like he was reborn for a third time.
A miracle it was, truly.
Often times, the dark haired male wondered what his mother and father would have thought of him if they were still alive and could see all that he had done… He began to realize that they would despise him for his crimes, but that was to be expected; Jasper may not ever be able to be forgiven from the families that he robbed, but he was forgiven by someone he barely knew, yet he managed to spill forth his sins to this man, and maybe all along, that was all he needed to do.
Jasper was lucky, lucky that Hansel decided to not toss him out after hearing such a thing… Still, he only told the surface of his crimes, he had yet to reveal the depth of the iceberg.
But a sudden calloused hand ruffling his jet hued hair brought the dark haired male back to reality, and he remembered when his parents would ruffle his hair after he showed them his report card from school, telling him that they were proud of him… Did this also hold the same emotion? Jasper couldn't tell. Then again, he didn't think there was anything to be proud of from himself.
“You really think I'm special? Even after all I've done?” The dark haired male asked, his cyan gaze shining with a surprised look in them, but it wasn't visible due to his head still being hidden from the prying eyes of the cruel new world, his tone hushed and shaky to a small degree as he spoke.
So many words were spoken to Jasper, words that he thought he would never hear from anyone, words that gave him hope in the new world, and words that offered comfort and support.
“You're like someone I could have never imagined coming across. You still have hope and aren't anything like the people in gangs… It's strange how sincere you are, but I like it…” Jasper murmured within a gentler tone, wonder lacing his words as he spoke.
And he did something he never thought he would catch himself doing- he smiled; a genuine smile that tugged upwards at the corners of his lips. The dark haired male didn't fight it, either, he allowed this smile to grace his scarred visage.
Discord: .xielian | he/him | FR+2 | gay rights alone will save our clan
The loosening of the arms wrapped around him was a welcome relief - he had to admit, though the tight embrace was welcome and the strength in those arms reassuring, it was also awkward. He'd never hugged another man before - it was quite a bit different than the gentle hugs that he'd received from his younger sister. Though not unpleasant, it was... different.
The young man's words were welcome to hear - familiar, even, however uncommon they were. He'd heard those same words, 'even after all I've done?', echo in his own head in the past. It was raw truth: after having sentenced yourself to the wills of your sins, it was hard to believe that you could be worth anything. A man could become so caught up in his own mind that he'd been robbed of the choice to change. To believe again.
He'd also heard the other man's words before. Though not from within, but from his Oma. He'd always been sincere - lying only hurt those whose ears heard the lies, and there was honor in remaining loyal to the truth. To him, there was no shame that could be found in the truth - it simply existed. It simply was. It could not be changed, not even by clever words concealing lies and fantasies of another truth that someone longed for. It was pointless to lie.
And hope... Hope was the one thing that he'd always held, no matter the situation that he was faced with. Hope was easy for him to grasp, as even in the darkest of times, there were always positives. Perhaps not the positives that people wanted, but there always was something to hope for, if the effort was placed in searching for it. That was why he hadn't been able to kill his family until they had turned - some part of him had hoped - in vain - that they would fight off the contamination.
"What would I have to gain in lying to you?" And it was the truth. What would he have gained in lying to the other man? In offering his own story, his life experience and the lessons that he had learned, trying to piece back together a small portion of a fractured soul that he recognized? The other man had already promised to leave by the next day - Hansel could have well kept his mouth shut, as he was so well versed in, and simply offered the younger man what he had asked for: food and shelter for the evening.
He extracted himself from the other man's embrace, not because of a particular want to escape it, but because he could feel the moisture of fresh blood bubbling from the other man's wound. He hadn't forgotten the other man's wounds - had simply bid his time by how well the bare dustings of dry herb would hold up - and it seemed that he was in need of another application.
"Lean forward. I am not done." Though his words were said with a soft-spoken command as he stepped back, distancing himself from the other yet keeping a hand firmly on Jasper's fleshy shoulder, he did not make move to return to his previous position behind the other just yet - waiting to see if the man would obey him or not.
"I do not believe that you will need stitches - your skin heals remarkably well."
The loosening of the arms wrapped around him was a welcome relief - he had to admit, though the tight embrace was welcome and the strength in those arms reassuring, it was also awkward. He'd never hugged another man before - it was quite a bit different than the gentle hugs that he'd received from his younger sister. Though not unpleasant, it was... different.
The young man's words were welcome to hear - familiar, even, however uncommon they were. He'd heard those same words, 'even after all I've done?', echo in his own head in the past. It was raw truth: after having sentenced yourself to the wills of your sins, it was hard to believe that you could be worth anything. A man could become so caught up in his own mind that he'd been robbed of the choice to change. To believe again.
He'd also heard the other man's words before. Though not from within, but from his Oma. He'd always been sincere - lying only hurt those whose ears heard the lies, and there was honor in remaining loyal to the truth. To him, there was no shame that could be found in the truth - it simply existed. It simply was. It could not be changed, not even by clever words concealing lies and fantasies of another truth that someone longed for. It was pointless to lie.
And hope... Hope was the one thing that he'd always held, no matter the situation that he was faced with. Hope was easy for him to grasp, as even in the darkest of times, there were always positives. Perhaps not the positives that people wanted, but there always was something to hope for, if the effort was placed in searching for it. That was why he hadn't been able to kill his family until they had turned - some part of him had hoped - in vain - that they would fight off the contamination.
"What would I have to gain in lying to you?" And it was the truth. What would he have gained in lying to the other man? In offering his own story, his life experience and the lessons that he had learned, trying to piece back together a small portion of a fractured soul that he recognized? The other man had already promised to leave by the next day - Hansel could have well kept his mouth shut, as he was so well versed in, and simply offered the younger man what he had asked for: food and shelter for the evening.
He extracted himself from the other man's embrace, not because of a particular want to escape it, but because he could feel the moisture of fresh blood bubbling from the other man's wound. He hadn't forgotten the other man's wounds - had simply bid his time by how well the bare dustings of dry herb would hold up - and it seemed that he was in need of another application.
"Lean forward. I am not done." Though his words were said with a soft-spoken command as he stepped back, distancing himself from the other yet keeping a hand firmly on Jasper's fleshy shoulder, he did not make move to return to his previous position behind the other just yet - waiting to see if the man would obey him or not.
"I do not believe that you will need stitches - your skin heals remarkably well."
That smile was as quick to leave his scarred visage as it was to arrive when the other male had pulled away from the warm embrace that seemed to last for hours. His comfort was suddenly gone, and Jasper felt the same as he did for many years now- empty inside.
Despite wanting to let himself linger, the dark haired male decided to simply ease himself away from Hansel, both metal and fleshy arms falling back onto his lap where his dark hued shirt rested in a messy ball sort of shape.
As he simply listened to the other male’s gentler commands, the dark haired male offered a nod of his head in a manner of acknowledgement, following Hansel’s words and leaning his upper half a tad forward, letting his head rest on his metal and fleshy hands. Albeit it was a bit uncomfortable to sit in this position -as his elbows was digging into his one fleshy thigh- Jasper understood that he had to do this so he could be healed.
“Really? No stitches. What a relief…” Jasper murmured, a pleased gleam in his cyan gaze as he spoke. “The last time I had to get stitches was when I accidentally sliced my arm real bad- the arm that's now made of metal…” The dark haired male spoke mostly to himself, but it was still loud enough for the other male to hear if he so chose to listen.
A sigh escaping past his parted lips as he simply reminisced on the blissful past, Jasper opened his mouth to continue speaking.
“My mom rushed me to the hospital since my papa fainted from seeing all of the blood… It made me wonder why he decided to join the war…” Thin, dark eyebrows knitted into a look of focus with a very slim hint of frustration in them.
No matter how much Jasper thought about his father’s own choice to join the war, he still couldn't seek out an answer, nor could he ask that man, as he was no longer with his family.
“I had to get stitches in my arm, but I was lucky to have numbing medication… I still cried, though.” A hushed, lighthearted laugh rolled off of the dark haired male’s tongue, though there was no smile visible upon his scarred features. His cyan eyes shown with nostalgia.
Time he could never get back, nor could he repeat. He was stuck having to live off of memories that he could barely seem to remember.
If my skin was any better at healing itself, I doubt I'd have so many scars… At least I'll be able live for another day. Jasper thought to himself, trying to distract himself from more memories of his past that were spilling into his mind by the second.
Sure, memories were always nice, but many of them only brought more pain to his already torn-up heart.
I should thank him when I have to leave. The dark haired male decided. It was better to be as polite as possible at this point, even if after they'd part ways they'd most likely never meet again. What more could he offer to a man who was able to ease his pain and sorrows aside from offer a sincere ‘thank you’, anyways? Jasper didn't even have much to offer in the first place… No money, no keepsakes, no souvenirs, nothing. All he had was his mind and the clothes and metal on his body.
That smile was as quick to leave his scarred visage as it was to arrive when the other male had pulled away from the warm embrace that seemed to last for hours. His comfort was suddenly gone, and Jasper felt the same as he did for many years now- empty inside.
Despite wanting to let himself linger, the dark haired male decided to simply ease himself away from Hansel, both metal and fleshy arms falling back onto his lap where his dark hued shirt rested in a messy ball sort of shape.
As he simply listened to the other male’s gentler commands, the dark haired male offered a nod of his head in a manner of acknowledgement, following Hansel’s words and leaning his upper half a tad forward, letting his head rest on his metal and fleshy hands. Albeit it was a bit uncomfortable to sit in this position -as his elbows was digging into his one fleshy thigh- Jasper understood that he had to do this so he could be healed.
“Really? No stitches. What a relief…” Jasper murmured, a pleased gleam in his cyan gaze as he spoke. “The last time I had to get stitches was when I accidentally sliced my arm real bad- the arm that's now made of metal…” The dark haired male spoke mostly to himself, but it was still loud enough for the other male to hear if he so chose to listen.
A sigh escaping past his parted lips as he simply reminisced on the blissful past, Jasper opened his mouth to continue speaking.
“My mom rushed me to the hospital since my papa fainted from seeing all of the blood… It made me wonder why he decided to join the war…” Thin, dark eyebrows knitted into a look of focus with a very slim hint of frustration in them.
No matter how much Jasper thought about his father’s own choice to join the war, he still couldn't seek out an answer, nor could he ask that man, as he was no longer with his family.
“I had to get stitches in my arm, but I was lucky to have numbing medication… I still cried, though.” A hushed, lighthearted laugh rolled off of the dark haired male’s tongue, though there was no smile visible upon his scarred features. His cyan eyes shown with nostalgia.
Time he could never get back, nor could he repeat. He was stuck having to live off of memories that he could barely seem to remember.
If my skin was any better at healing itself, I doubt I'd have so many scars… At least I'll be able live for another day. Jasper thought to himself, trying to distract himself from more memories of his past that were spilling into his mind by the second.
Sure, memories were always nice, but many of them only brought more pain to his already torn-up heart.
I should thank him when I have to leave. The dark haired male decided. It was better to be as polite as possible at this point, even if after they'd part ways they'd most likely never meet again. What more could he offer to a man who was able to ease his pain and sorrows aside from offer a sincere ‘thank you’, anyways? Jasper didn't even have much to offer in the first place… No money, no keepsakes, no souvenirs, nothing. All he had was his mind and the clothes and metal on his body.
Discord: .xielian | he/him | FR+2 | gay rights alone will save our clan
