[He still minds. He minds because Jeb's persistence echoes Sayo's, and he's afraid to get pulled into him the same way he was pulled into her orbit. He minds because he's running out of reasons to keep pushing him away - curled up in the rubble of everything he used to have, he watches the foundations of his beliefs tremble and he doesn't know what to do.]
If you want to do me a favor, you should leave me alone. [So he relies on the same acidic barbs he's jabbed the other boy with before, over and over.]
I-I will. I told you, I'm going now. I just... didn't want you to be without anything today. [Because he knows Mithos doesn't actually want to be alone. He remembers discovering this, alongside things that are better off forgetting. Laced hands and laughter and happiness. Kisses and soft promises. And while Jeb doesn't want the romance, the intimacy, the "I love you"s, he also doesn't want Mithos to be completely alone. He knows the fear of that all too well.] Merry Christmas, Mithos.
[He watches Jeb turn, his stony expression fixed in place no matter what's falling apart behind it.] ...What you want makes no difference. [His voice is quieter than he intended, but he keeps talking.] It doesn't change anything.
Maybe it will, one day. It would be nice if you didn't have to be so alone. [Maybe he's assuming that Mithos is, but to Jeb, that week they were together still makes him believe otherwise. He doesn't want Mithos to change his beliefs--he just wants to change Mithos' sadness, turn it into something better. That's... at least something he's been good at with others before, right...?] You don't have to be my friend. It would just be nice if you had someone who could make you happy again.
["Why should you be allowed to stay here, when they've all left?" Jeb hasn't forgotten those words, nor their implications. Has Mithos really lost all the people here that helped him not be so miserable? Jeb couldn't imagine going through that himself.]
[There's the part of him that wants to collapse and cry and agree. He doesn't want to be alone. He never wanted to be alone, but life has forced this fate down his throat over and over again, and the taste only gets more bitter.
But Jeb can't be the person who pulls him out of loneliness. He wants to adamantly cling to that assertion, even if he's finding that he can't support it anymore. He's too afraid to do anything else. And he's grateful for the chance to hate the human for making him feel so confused, for knowing how lost he is.]
...Just go away. [None of the usual sharpness is there - the edges of the words are blunted with an exhaustion that blooms not from sleepless nights but from inside his chest.]
[Jeb sighs. Marie starts mewling in his arms, and he holds her closer to his chest. He really should go.]
Okay. [His voice cracks.] I'm sorry if I... if I upset you, Mithos.
[He starts walking off again, but not nearly as quickly as he could be. He wants to turn around and stay with Mithos. He wants to try to make everything all right.
But he can't. He knows he can't. He keeps trying to get through to Mithos, and he knows he'll continue. But there's no use, is there? It's not a matter of whether or not Jeb is human or otherwise--he's just not strong enough to help, is he? He's been able to help others, but... maybe he's just not even good at that anymore.]
Shh, Marie... [He does her best to keep her warm, but she continues to meow and whine.] Shh.
[He says nothing. He glares at Jeb, but the anger collapses into empty sorrow, and he has to quickly turn his gaze aside as Jeb turns to go. His grip on the knife's handle turns his arm rigid and his muscles tremble. An acute memory wedges itself open in his mind: it had been around this time two years ago that he met Kaori and almost gave her a chance. He doesn't want to know why he remembers this now.]
[christmas, yo]
If you want to do me a favor, you should leave me alone. [So he relies on the same acidic barbs he's jabbed the other boy with before, over and over.]
[christmas, yo]
[He starts to turn back around.]
[christmas, yo]
[christmas, yo]
["Why should you be allowed to stay here, when they've all left?" Jeb hasn't forgotten those words, nor their implications. Has Mithos really lost all the people here that helped him not be so miserable? Jeb couldn't imagine going through that himself.]
[christmas, yo]
But Jeb can't be the person who pulls him out of loneliness. He wants to adamantly cling to that assertion, even if he's finding that he can't support it anymore. He's too afraid to do anything else. And he's grateful for the chance to hate the human for making him feel so confused, for knowing how lost he is.]
...Just go away. [None of the usual sharpness is there - the edges of the words are blunted with an exhaustion that blooms not from sleepless nights but from inside his chest.]
[christmas, yo]
Okay. [His voice cracks.] I'm sorry if I... if I upset you, Mithos.
[He starts walking off again, but not nearly as quickly as he could be. He wants to turn around and stay with Mithos. He wants to try to make everything all right.
But he can't. He knows he can't. He keeps trying to get through to Mithos, and he knows he'll continue. But there's no use, is there? It's not a matter of whether or not Jeb is human or otherwise--he's just not strong enough to help, is he? He's been able to help others, but... maybe he's just not even good at that anymore.]
Shh, Marie... [He does her best to keep her warm, but she continues to meow and whine.] Shh.
[christmas, yo] then I decided to add things