[A different current laps and rushes at the edge of the tatty, ragged couch. It's one L knows; he's felt it before, seen the world growing dimmer and narrower, keenly aware of how a heart beats wrong and then doesn't at all.
That day on the beach, he was different. He hadn't yet lost the first community he'd found and belonged to; he hadn't yet lost Paul. Comparing death and vicarious death is something he can do now; he knows, without contest, which one is worse.
The impulse to fight or flee looks messy and humiliating, but at its core, doesn't it mean that one wants to live? Paul needs to see that he's trying; Paul needs to see that he's not being punished.
It's why, when the Emperor's lightless eyes meet his drifting and unsteady gaze, L puts aside the sting of mutilated pride and attempts, honestly, to reach for his offered hand. If that had gone as intended, the bloody tourniqueted stump would have found its way into the warm, steady palm; instead there's the feeble tink of a fork against wooden floorboards.
He couldn't lift his arm, not even a few inches from the ground. His shivering exhaustion is apparent with every shredded breath; there's no comfort in any of it, except that there's no way Paul can see it as a refusal.]
no subject
That day on the beach, he was different. He hadn't yet lost the first community he'd found and belonged to; he hadn't yet lost Paul. Comparing death and vicarious death is something he can do now; he knows, without contest, which one is worse.
The impulse to fight or flee looks messy and humiliating, but at its core, doesn't it mean that one wants to live? Paul needs to see that he's trying; Paul needs to see that he's not being punished.
It's why, when the Emperor's lightless eyes meet his drifting and unsteady gaze, L puts aside the sting of mutilated pride and attempts, honestly, to reach for his offered hand. If that had gone as intended, the bloody tourniqueted stump would have found its way into the warm, steady palm; instead there's the feeble tink of a fork against wooden floorboards.
He couldn't lift his arm, not even a few inches from the ground. His shivering exhaustion is apparent with every shredded breath; there's no comfort in any of it, except that there's no way Paul can see it as a refusal.]