[He's still reading the words on the page as she speaks, and though he hears those words, he doesn't understand them. They can't be words spoken to him, a person who would never be the type to enter into a situation where he would ever father a child. His place was at Oz's side, and it would be long after Oz decided to marry and have children. To do so himself...to allow someone to love him equally; it would be selfish, wouldn't it? Because his heart could never make that sort of allowance. Anyone who tried to love him would never receive anything equal in return.
Selfish...so selfish.
The words on the paper end up as blurred as his thoughts as he feels himself start to cry. He can't even blame it fully on the fever this time. No matter how sick his body has become over the last week, this truth has always been obvious to him. He'll never be able to be responsible for the state of anyone's heart, not without concurrently living in shame and guilt.
It takes him a long, fevered moment to realize, however, that this isn't what Ahiru is asking for. She isn't a person who would request that sort of responsibility from him, nor require him to fill that type of role in her heart because she's never expected anything more from him. She would never ask him to forgo a moment with Oz for her sake; she would never demand any level of treatment reserved for his young master. She would never make him choose his path based on a division of loyalty.
...Or maybe he's just over-thinking words that should be rather simple at their truest meaning. Wasn't love just another word for the devotion that he's already come to understand? In his strange place, where the core of his duty and his burden still existed, that was one thing that he'd come to understand.
Seeing her smile was enough.
He bows his head and rests his forehead against her hand, respectfully. The world tilts and sways, but though his mind fights to black out, he remains upright. Perhaps, he thinks, he's just waiting for her permission to fall.]
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Selfish...so selfish.
The words on the paper end up as blurred as his thoughts as he feels himself start to cry. He can't even blame it fully on the fever this time. No matter how sick his body has become over the last week, this truth has always been obvious to him. He'll never be able to be responsible for the state of anyone's heart, not without concurrently living in shame and guilt.
It takes him a long, fevered moment to realize, however, that this isn't what Ahiru is asking for. She isn't a person who would request that sort of responsibility from him, nor require him to fill that type of role in her heart because she's never expected anything more from him. She would never ask him to forgo a moment with Oz for her sake; she would never demand any level of treatment reserved for his young master. She would never make him choose his path based on a division of loyalty.
...Or maybe he's just over-thinking words that should be rather simple at their truest meaning. Wasn't love just another word for the devotion that he's already come to understand? In his strange place, where the core of his duty and his burden still existed, that was one thing that he'd come to understand.
Seeing her smile was enough.
He bows his head and rests his forehead against her hand, respectfully. The world tilts and sways, but though his mind fights to black out, he remains upright. Perhaps, he thinks, he's just waiting for her permission to fall.]