[ The worst part of all of this was knowing that she couldn't wish the people they'd lost back. Because she knew what it was like to reach that point where you were alright to disappear. The moment when even if the past wasn't okay, you were, finally, at peace. She knew how lost you could feel without that, how alone, how pained. The one thing she'd always known about this place was that it was supposed to be a place for everyone to work through their issues and to get better, to find whatever it was they needed.
If they had reached that, somehow or the other while she wasn't watching, then how could she take that away from them? It was the worst part of losing the people she cared about, because fighting to try to get them back in any way would be like fighting to force them into misery with her, just so she wouldn't be alone. If they'd reached that spot and felt they could leave her behind, then Yuri couldn't say anything. But she wanted to, and she hated herself for it.
Kohaku's words settled in, but they weren't much comfort. There was no way to make this easier, to beautify what was happening to them. She knew that. She knew there was no way to fix anything besides trying to move forward and keep fighting, but sometimes it was hard not to want a promise that at least things wouldn't get worse than they already were.
Somehow that time when Yuri felt okay, like she could forgive herself, had slipped away. Even the basis for it, that she'd been able to protect everyone, was false because the whole thing had fallen apart. Her efforts had only made things worse for everyone here and it wasn't the first time things had played out that way.
The only real comfort that Kohaku's words offered was the point that Yuri was sure he was trying to get across. Despite everything, despite who he was and his normal attitude, he was embracing her. Comforting her, essentially telling her that even if she feels alone and if she might be alone later, she's not alone right now. There's still someone she cares about there with her and that's worth holding onto because there's a chance. A small chance. And even if it's the tiniest chance, it wasn't time to give up and try to run off on her own and blow it because she wanted to feel around in the dark for that little speck of hope.
Yuri didn't push Kohaku away, not saying anything. Her throat had tightened up and she was just crying quietly until finally it seemed to stop. It wasn't as though he'd just miraculously cured her, but at least for now.. at least for now there was someone there for her.
Her face buried in his shirt, after what seemed like a long while she muttered something to him, muffled entirely by the fabric but it sounded like a quiet 'sorry.' ]
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If they had reached that, somehow or the other while she wasn't watching, then how could she take that away from them? It was the worst part of losing the people she cared about, because fighting to try to get them back in any way would be like fighting to force them into misery with her, just so she wouldn't be alone. If they'd reached that spot and felt they could leave her behind, then Yuri couldn't say anything. But she wanted to, and she hated herself for it.
Kohaku's words settled in, but they weren't much comfort. There was no way to make this easier, to beautify what was happening to them. She knew that. She knew there was no way to fix anything besides trying to move forward and keep fighting, but sometimes it was hard not to want a promise that at least things wouldn't get worse than they already were.
Somehow that time when Yuri felt okay, like she could forgive herself, had slipped away. Even the basis for it, that she'd been able to protect everyone, was false because the whole thing had fallen apart. Her efforts had only made things worse for everyone here and it wasn't the first time things had played out that way.
The only real comfort that Kohaku's words offered was the point that Yuri was sure he was trying to get across. Despite everything, despite who he was and his normal attitude, he was embracing her. Comforting her, essentially telling her that even if she feels alone and if she might be alone later, she's not alone right now. There's still someone she cares about there with her and that's worth holding onto because there's a chance. A small chance. And even if it's the tiniest chance, it wasn't time to give up and try to run off on her own and blow it because she wanted to feel around in the dark for that little speck of hope.
Yuri didn't push Kohaku away, not saying anything. Her throat had tightened up and she was just crying quietly until finally it seemed to stop. It wasn't as though he'd just miraculously cured her, but at least for now.. at least for now there was someone there for her.
Her face buried in his shirt, after what seemed like a long while she muttered something to him, muffled entirely by the fabric but it sounded like a quiet 'sorry.' ]