[ worse than anything else is watching kaz falter like this and knowing that it's because of him. he wants to shake him, wants to yell that he's not worth whatever pain he keeps putting himself through. nikolai wants to close his eyes to the rawness in his gaze, the pain from his shoulder, his hand, from being thrown into the sea, from all the things that nikolai won't say. all of it because of him. if he keeps going like this then there will be nothing left of kaz to salvage, none of the promise that nikolai sees in him, his wit, his mind, his extraordinary hands. he won't want anyone else to see him or touch him after nikolai is done dragging him across these coals over and over and over again.
why do you do this? why does he bleed out every bit of the things he cares for? too much, always too much. he wants to take kaz's face in his hands, but doesn't; he's been through enough tonight, felt enough terror and revulsion to last him the rest of this job and far beyond. stop him. he doesn't have to do this. he doesn't have to bleed anymore for you. nikolai is not in the habit of telling the truth any more than kaz is — the real truth, the ugly things that don't go with his disarming smile, the things that can't be glossed over with a joke or a laugh. i don't want to lose you and i don't know how to keep you here are problems he has to confess that there are no solutions to. worse than being a liar, at this point, is that he's being cruel. it's cruel to let kaz think that somehow, somewhere, there is an answer to any of this. that he has ever been the answer to anything. ]
Kaz. Kaz, stop. [ his hands come up to cradle his elbows, guilt tightening his throat, and his chest gives a twinge, a reminder that neither of them should be doing anything but resting right now. he can't take this wounded look. even the knowledge that he and the demon are the same, two halves inextricably tied together, isn't something that he wants to face right now. but it's true. he's lived with it for years, nearly died with it more than a few times. there's no way it hasn't made an indelible mark on his soul by now. you don't even believe in souls.
he draws in a breath in an attempt to steady himself, to brace himself for what might come next. kaz might hit him. he almost wishes he would. where is this damnable gun? his hands skate gently up kaz's arms, his grip barely there, and he wants to keep going up and up, until he brushes the line of his jaw, can nestle his fingers into his dark hair, but he doesn't. he stops moving and he wants to stop breathing. ]
You don't. You don't need me. [ spoken gently, like kaz is a skittish foal. his mouth curves into the smallest of smiles. ] I've made this mistake before, and I can't — [ a breath. he swallows. ] I can't do it with you. I can't be what you think you need. I'm not.
[ i'm not anything anymore. not ravka's savior. not kaz's shelter. not a lantsov but not anything else, either. the only thing he might still be is a monster. he wants to look away but refuses to allow himself that small grace, keeping their eyes level. ] I made you promises that I can't keep. For that I'm sorry. I'll do what you need me to do for this job, but I can't give you anything more than that. The only thing you'll find with me is a slow death. And —
[ and what? there's so much more he wants to say. that he needs to say. he doesn't want to be the reason that kaz doesn't ever try to push his limits with anyone else, but doesn't have the right to tell him otherwise. or maybe he's just overstating his importance again. he drops his hands, slumping back against the wall. and what? that he's proud of kaz for the things they shared? that he wishes he could be more? his chest sinks around an exhale, his eyes finally dropping as he smooths his expression into something neutral. coward. ]
I don't want to hurt you anymore. I don't want to do this with you.
no subject
why do you do this? why does he bleed out every bit of the things he cares for? too much, always too much. he wants to take kaz's face in his hands, but doesn't; he's been through enough tonight, felt enough terror and revulsion to last him the rest of this job and far beyond. stop him. he doesn't have to do this. he doesn't have to bleed anymore for you. nikolai is not in the habit of telling the truth any more than kaz is — the real truth, the ugly things that don't go with his disarming smile, the things that can't be glossed over with a joke or a laugh. i don't want to lose you and i don't know how to keep you here are problems he has to confess that there are no solutions to. worse than being a liar, at this point, is that he's being cruel. it's cruel to let kaz think that somehow, somewhere, there is an answer to any of this. that he has ever been the answer to anything. ]
Kaz. Kaz, stop. [ his hands come up to cradle his elbows, guilt tightening his throat, and his chest gives a twinge, a reminder that neither of them should be doing anything but resting right now. he can't take this wounded look. even the knowledge that he and the demon are the same, two halves inextricably tied together, isn't something that he wants to face right now. but it's true. he's lived with it for years, nearly died with it more than a few times. there's no way it hasn't made an indelible mark on his soul by now. you don't even believe in souls.
he draws in a breath in an attempt to steady himself, to brace himself for what might come next. kaz might hit him. he almost wishes he would. where is this damnable gun? his hands skate gently up kaz's arms, his grip barely there, and he wants to keep going up and up, until he brushes the line of his jaw, can nestle his fingers into his dark hair, but he doesn't. he stops moving and he wants to stop breathing. ]
You don't. You don't need me. [ spoken gently, like kaz is a skittish foal. his mouth curves into the smallest of smiles. ] I've made this mistake before, and I can't — [ a breath. he swallows. ] I can't do it with you. I can't be what you think you need. I'm not.
[ i'm not anything anymore. not ravka's savior. not kaz's shelter. not a lantsov but not anything else, either. the only thing he might still be is a monster. he wants to look away but refuses to allow himself that small grace, keeping their eyes level. ] I made you promises that I can't keep. For that I'm sorry. I'll do what you need me to do for this job, but I can't give you anything more than that. The only thing you'll find with me is a slow death. And —
[ and what? there's so much more he wants to say. that he needs to say. he doesn't want to be the reason that kaz doesn't ever try to push his limits with anyone else, but doesn't have the right to tell him otherwise. or maybe he's just overstating his importance again. he drops his hands, slumping back against the wall. and what? that he's proud of kaz for the things they shared? that he wishes he could be more? his chest sinks around an exhale, his eyes finally dropping as he smooths his expression into something neutral. coward. ]
I don't want to hurt you anymore. I don't want to do this with you.