[He doesn't. He knows he has no real reason to apologize to Cain, words harsh when he'd given in to overwhelming confusion and anger but truthfully, still not wholly undeserved. And he'd meant it, then, had wanted nothing more than to put as much distance as possible between them, to foolishly try to scrub every piece of Cain he could from his life, like it would be so simple to just run and never look back.
And maybe he was sorry for that, sorry that he'd barely allowed any explanation to be given, hadn't been willing to listen. There just hadn't been any time and while a valid one, still an excuse all the same.
If given the choice, he'd never have wanted his last words to Cain to be ones of anger. But they had been (mostly) and they'd both been granted the distance Abel had so desperately thought he'd wanted and none of it had been easy, had made him feel any better at all.]
Yeah. Maybe.
[It hurts more than he's willing to admit when Cain furthers the distance between them, when he rebuffs Abel's touch and stands instead; disappointment a bitter thing to swallow, thick and acerbic in the back of his throat. For the best, maybe, given he doesn't seem to have the will to do it himself despite knowing it was completely unfair to keep pressing at Cain now. Would he even remember all of this in the morning? Most, a jarring enough experience to certainly stick, but Abel doesn't want his words here to become lost, too important to be careless with.
The offered hand is taken, unneeded but wanted, what he thinks might be the last little bit of warmth he can selfishly indulge. Tonight. Maybe. He lets go, once he's up.]
They said we could pick a room. Probably have one waiting for me so-
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And maybe he was sorry for that, sorry that he'd barely allowed any explanation to be given, hadn't been willing to listen. There just hadn't been any time and while a valid one, still an excuse all the same.
If given the choice, he'd never have wanted his last words to Cain to be ones of anger. But they had been (mostly) and they'd both been granted the distance Abel had so desperately thought he'd wanted and none of it had been easy, had made him feel any better at all.]
Yeah. Maybe.
[It hurts more than he's willing to admit when Cain furthers the distance between them, when he rebuffs Abel's touch and stands instead; disappointment a bitter thing to swallow, thick and acerbic in the back of his throat. For the best, maybe, given he doesn't seem to have the will to do it himself despite knowing it was completely unfair to keep pressing at Cain now. Would he even remember all of this in the morning? Most, a jarring enough experience to certainly stick, but Abel doesn't want his words here to become lost, too important to be careless with.
The offered hand is taken, unneeded but wanted, what he thinks might be the last little bit of warmth he can selfishly indulge. Tonight. Maybe. He lets go, once he's up.]
They said we could pick a room. Probably have one waiting for me so-
[If Cain wanted space, he could have it.]