Deneuve and Foryst

(bahahaha! whoops!!)

A short while later, Foryst returned to the room and smiled. "Dinner's ready, Den," he said softly. "Do you want it here or are you going to come down to the kitchen?"

Deneuve paused faintly as he shifted himself a little.

"Um...I guess I'll come down." He hummed faintly - already dressed.

Foryst nodded, watching him and he paused. "Um, what we did, it, it doesn't really change anything between us, does it?" he asked. "Like, I-I don't want things to be awkward or anything."

Deneuve paused and looked to him quietly before he smiled.

"Not unless you want things to change." He replied simply.

"Well, I think it'd be nice to have a little change. I just don't want things to get awkward, you know?" Foryst asked, nibbling his lip a little uneasily.

"It won't get awkward." Deneuve assured him, smiling.

"Unless you make it awkward."

Foryst shook his head. "I don't want it to be awkward. I-I've missed being held by someone," he murmured. "I, I really liked it when you did it."

"Now I'll do it more." Deneuve smiled.

"I like it too."

Foryst nodded. "That, that sounds good," he replied.

"I'm glad." Deneuve mused softly, smiling.

Foryst smiled and nodded. "Um, Den?" he whispered and looked up at him. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For, for everything. For taking me away from there. For, not letting me shoot myself. Even though I know I deserve it after everything I've done."

Deneuve blinked and looked up at him before giving a small smile.

"Foryst, you don't need to thank me." He replied softly.

"For anything. You don't deserve it - not even for what you've done."

"You're probably the only one who can honestly say that," Foryst mumbled, bowing his head. He busied himself with some extra preparations of their meal. "I mean, I left five families fatherless." He picked up a knife, intending to put it in the sink when he paused, gripping the knife tightly. "But they're the ones who took everything from me," he whispered, his voice quiet and a strange, angry look flashing through his eyes. "I was doing their families a favour after what they did to mine. If they knew what their husbands had done. And to little girls too." He increased his grip on the knife before he sighed and forced himself to drop it in the sink. "I'm not sorry for it," he whispered. "I will never be sorry for it."

"I know." Deneuve said softly, watching the other closely.

"I don't expect you to be sorry." He wasn't sure what else to say - having never felt that immense feeling himself.

Deneuve had always been able to forgive and forget and leave things in the past. Or, at least try to. Then again, he hadn't had his entire family ripped from him either. He couldn't imagine losing his brother - though that was something he never truly ever thought about before either.

"But..." He fell quiet, fighting to find the words, but nothing else would come.

And so he remained silent, instead turning his attention to the wall. His shoulders slightly slumped as he tried to think of something - anything to say.

Again, nothing else would come.

If there had been something he wanted to add to his thoughts, it had left him now or perhaps, he found it too cliche or stupid to say out loud.

Again, he had never suffered like Foryst had and he found it difficult to imagine himself in that type of situation - no matter how hard he tried to.

Foryst was quiet, standing silently by the sink for a few more seconds before he sighed and turned the water on to wash the knife. He put the knife away before turning to face Deneuve and he smiled at him. "So, dinner," he said softly. "We should eat before it gets cold." It was frightening, the sudden turn around of Foryst's emotions, but it seemed that he kept those certain emotions behind a mask or a wall of some sort. It was no wonder that he went for Deneuve's gun when the cop showed up. He was keeping so much pain hidden behind that pleasant, carefree smile and cheerful eyes.

Deneuve turned his eyes to Foryst quietly before he stood and went over, wrapping his arms gently around the other male's waist and pressing his face firmly into his shoulder.

"It's okay to cry sometimes." He murmured softly.

"I cry a lot myself."

Foryst's smile disappeared instantly and he sighed, bowing his head slightly as he hugged him back. "I have no more tears to shed though," he whispered. "I spent the first two months after I got revenge crying and then one day, they just stopped. I can shed them for other things, which is weird, but, I can no longer shed them for my own family."

"They wouldn't want you to cry." Deneuve told him softly.

"Maybe it's a sign that they want you to no longer cry."

Foryst looked up at him and watched him, nodding slightly. "Maybe," he replied quietly and held his hand out to him. "May I have a hug?"

Deneuve blinked and watched Foryst for a moment before he grinned and eagerly reached out to hug him.

"Of course ~ You don't even need to ask!"