( She keeps saying things like there's hope or a chance, like she hasn't realize what a joke he is, how useless. She doesn't know the depths of it, that he's stupid. That he a broken thing, and twisted. He's pieces of glass, or he's full of these pieces, but these aren't ones that he can take in his hands and mould into something whole again. They rasp and slice, leave him a raw mess, reopening wounds before they have a chance to even heal.
Adonis Casey is not a loveable thing, and he's known that for a long time. Maybe that's why Asteria picked him, to practice her magic, because it wouldn't be a waste, or the destruction of anything that someone might have loved. When he was alone, it meant other people were better off, it seemed like. And when he'd stumbled into Max's life, all he'd done was bring Asteria with him, so that now she tried to break apart Max, as well. He'd thought it before he knew about his magic, that things weren't going to get better, and Atlas let him delude himself from time to time that he might be able to help people, make a difference, mean something. He could make things better.
He made things worse. And so then maybe death was the solution, the way it would have been the solution before, spared Max from Asteria and spared him from himself and the way everything feels all the time, when he struggles to breathe and if he just disappeared everyone could stop holding their breath. But they're in Exsilium, and he can't even die right, here. There's not even the possibility of that relief, and it makes the desperation worse.
There's no possibility Max could reciprocate, because he is himself. That's reason enough.
Donny shakes his head, and points to the door, breath turning ragged for a beat before he suppresses it. ) I'm um, j-just going to-- um, fresh air.
cw: suicide ideation and depression
( She keeps saying things like there's hope or a chance, like she hasn't realize what a joke he is, how useless. She doesn't know the depths of it, that he's stupid. That he a broken thing, and twisted. He's pieces of glass, or he's full of these pieces, but these aren't ones that he can take in his hands and mould into something whole again. They rasp and slice, leave him a raw mess, reopening wounds before they have a chance to even heal.
Adonis Casey is not a loveable thing, and he's known that for a long time. Maybe that's why Asteria picked him, to practice her magic, because it wouldn't be a waste, or the destruction of anything that someone might have loved. When he was alone, it meant other people were better off, it seemed like. And when he'd stumbled into Max's life, all he'd done was bring Asteria with him, so that now she tried to break apart Max, as well. He'd thought it before he knew about his magic, that things weren't going to get better, and Atlas let him delude himself from time to time that he might be able to help people, make a difference, mean something. He could make things better.
He made things worse. And so then maybe death was the solution, the way it would have been the solution before, spared Max from Asteria and spared him from himself and the way everything feels all the time, when he struggles to breathe and if he just disappeared everyone could stop holding their breath. But they're in Exsilium, and he can't even die right, here. There's not even the possibility of that relief, and it makes the desperation worse.
There's no possibility Max could reciprocate, because he is himself. That's reason enough.
Donny shakes his head, and points to the door, breath turning ragged for a beat before he suppresses it. ) I'm um, j-just going to-- um, fresh air.