As quiet as those words were, they hung in the air long after Vinnie passed out. The silence and stillness following their fight seemed so much bigger when it came on the heels of that much heat and fury. Char was not the type to forgive and forget; as shameful as the vulnerability of a Lonely heart was, he could no more change his nature than stop being a fire-type. The best he could do was guard it with fierce and unforgiving walls. It was infintely easier to live life never saying sorry and believing that anyone who had proven willing to hurt him once would hurt him again. That goddamned vulnerability, on the other hand, took much more strength to wear.
But what was he going to do with Vinnie...?
...They really had overdone it. Vinnie was in much sorrier shape than the last time this had happened. This'd take more than the handful of potions lurking in the back of Char's bathroom cabinet. He dragged it out for a moment, but there was no point putting off what he already knew he was gonna end up doing: Char hauled himself into a sitting position next to Vinnie, looking away even if he knew Vinnie was totally conked out. "How come it's always my job to take care of your ass?" He groused, even if this had only happened all of maybe twice.
There was hesitance -- a little fear, even -- in his tail as it stretched through the slush, curling around Vinnie's limp tail and lifting it free of the growing puddle of melted, bloodied snow. Even if Vinnie was unconscious, it was still a daunting thought to bring him in direct contact once again with all the ravenous loneliness he'd seen under the mistletoe. Still, he only knew one way to coax flagging soul-flames, and it was by sharing fuel.
He looked away and squeezed his eyes shut, like he was afraid it might hurt, but still he let the fire on the end of his tail mingle with Vinnie's. Soul-flames weren't liars, and especially not in the moments that they burned as one. All of the things fuelling him were laid flat. All the desire for acknowledgement, all the regret, all the hurt that broken trust dragged in with it. The insecurity that had made their fight so bad in the first place and brought on his year of silence. The indefinable flutters of satisfaction when Vinnie's leaves had begun to return, when he'd first seen a tail flame that burned as brightly as he'd thought it would.
The satisfaction and contentment that sank in when a wildfire had burned itself out -- for all the complexity in their rivalry, it had been the kind of fight he lived for. He'd poured out everything he had against a worthy foe. No Charizard could walk away from that feeling regrets. All his touchiness and defensiveness may have boiled down to the hunger to just matter, not just as that annoying rival kid's Charmeleon or Bulba's brother or an immature snot who wouldn't let the past rest, but for the duration of that fight, it had been about nothing but the two of them, and that feeling still lingered bright and lantern-warm in his soul-flame.
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As quiet as those words were, they hung in the air long after Vinnie passed out. The silence and stillness following their fight seemed so much bigger when it came on the heels of that much heat and fury. Char was not the type to forgive and forget; as shameful as the vulnerability of a Lonely heart was, he could no more change his nature than stop being a fire-type. The best he could do was guard it with fierce and unforgiving walls. It was infintely easier to live life never saying sorry and believing that anyone who had proven willing to hurt him once would hurt him again. That goddamned vulnerability, on the other hand, took much more strength to wear.
But what was he going to do with Vinnie...?
...They really had overdone it. Vinnie was in much sorrier shape than the last time this had happened. This'd take more than the handful of potions lurking in the back of Char's bathroom cabinet. He dragged it out for a moment, but there was no point putting off what he already knew he was gonna end up doing: Char hauled himself into a sitting position next to Vinnie, looking away even if he knew Vinnie was totally conked out. "How come it's always my job to take care of your ass?" He groused, even if this had only happened all of maybe twice.
There was hesitance -- a little fear, even -- in his tail as it stretched through the slush, curling around Vinnie's limp tail and lifting it free of the growing puddle of melted, bloodied snow. Even if Vinnie was unconscious, it was still a daunting thought to bring him in direct contact once again with all the ravenous loneliness he'd seen under the mistletoe. Still, he only knew one way to coax flagging soul-flames, and it was by sharing fuel.
He looked away and squeezed his eyes shut, like he was afraid it might hurt, but still he let the fire on the end of his tail mingle with Vinnie's. Soul-flames weren't liars, and especially not in the moments that they burned as one. All of the things fuelling him were laid flat. All the desire for acknowledgement, all the regret, all the hurt that broken trust dragged in with it. The insecurity that had made their fight so bad in the first place and brought on his year of silence. The indefinable flutters of satisfaction when Vinnie's leaves had begun to return, when he'd first seen a tail flame that burned as brightly as he'd thought it would.
The satisfaction and contentment that sank in when a wildfire had burned itself out -- for all the complexity in their rivalry, it had been the kind of fight he lived for. He'd poured out everything he had against a worthy foe. No Charizard could walk away from that feeling regrets. All his touchiness and defensiveness may have boiled down to the hunger to just matter, not just as that annoying rival kid's Charmeleon or Bulba's brother or an immature snot who wouldn't let the past rest, but for the duration of that fight, it had been about nothing but the two of them, and that feeling still lingered bright and lantern-warm in his soul-flame.
He hadn't meant it either, Vinnie.