The kisses are just to say what words feel too brusque for: I love you, I'm here. And he'll let Jedao clutch and hide for as long as he likes. He'll just keep gently petting his hair and holding him against him.
He tenses up for a second and then goes almost completely limp, all the tension gone as he lets John's tighter grip hold him up, completely trusting to his strength.
"I don't know," he admits, voice raspy, silent tears rolling down his cheeks and soaking into John's clothes. Eiffel isn't dead. Jedao isn't grieving him. He just -
There's another soft kiss and John's going to start walking until he finds a rock with some moss, a good place to sit and just cradle Jedao in his arms.
Jedao tolerates the slack while they trundle along; when John finds a place to sit, he only says, "Tighter," with a hitching little breath.
He's wallowing, but he doesn't know what else is left. He's sulking like a child, because his friend went away. It's not like he didn't know, after Hera showed up, if not before. Eiffel had a dozen best friends, more, because wanted to befriend everyone, and he was the best friend you could ask for, every time. And Jedao had been fooling himself, all long, that he could beat those odds.
The arms but mostly the tentacles tighten and more of them joint in; tentacles looping around his arms and legs and shoulders, wrapping close and tight, pressure from every angle.
"If there's one thing I know you aren't, it's stupid." But he'll give a little squeeze. "...but I know that doesn't change feelings. In some ways, it makes them worse."
"I didn't want him to go," Jedao says, the stupid little-kid stubbornness that keeps welling up in his mouth, like blood from a too-deep wound. He tries to breath around it, tries to think. Tries.
"I've lost people I loved before. But it was always because I killed them." It was awful, it was almost unbearable, but he did it, he chose it. It feels impossible that it could simply happen to him, like a tornado twisting down out of a clear sky, like planets abandoning their orbits, plummeting into fire or the dark.
Being out of control, having things happen to you, having things happen entirely without you doing anything. It sounds insane, but it's not something he'd been used to. And it's terrifying.
Plenty of other things have happened to him - and really, if he thought about it rationally for a single second, which he hasn't, Dhanneth very much took him by surprise, no matter how much Jedao blames himself for his suicide. But it feels true, at the moment. Because -
"He loved me back," Jedao croaks out, on an awful, wretched sob. "I know he did, I know it wasn't a lie this time. But I still wasn't enough."
This is- well, this makes a lot of things make more sense. He'll keep the pressure on Jedao, press a few kisses to his hair mostly to give him something else to focus on. Then-
"He did. He does, I'd bet. But his choice wasn't because you were... deficient." His voice goes softer. "There's no such thing as 'enough'."
He gives him another little squeeze, and he'll nod. Yes. It would be so much easier if there was a goal you could meet and that would mean that no one would ever leave again. He can't disagree with that.
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"He -
- he was -"
He swallows and swallows, forgets to breath, drags little breaths in again, shudders.
" - he was the first kind person who ever smiled at me," he finally says, in a broken little voice that glitters like glass.
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So this was like-
A little like if he lost-
Oh.
His arms and the tentacles squeeze a little tighter.
"I'm glad you had him. And I'm sorry that he's not here anymore. Do you... want to talk about him?"
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"I don't know," he admits, voice raspy, silent tears rolling down his cheeks and soaking into John's clothes. Eiffel isn't dead. Jedao isn't grieving him. He just -
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There's another soft kiss and John's going to start walking until he finds a rock with some moss, a good place to sit and just cradle Jedao in his arms.
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He's wallowing, but he doesn't know what else is left. He's sulking like a child, because his friend went away. It's not like he didn't know, after Hera showed up, if not before. Eiffel had a dozen best friends, more, because wanted to befriend everyone, and he was the best friend you could ask for, every time. And Jedao had been fooling himself, all long, that he could beat those odds.
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"I've lost people I loved before. But it was always because I killed them." It was awful, it was almost unbearable, but he did it, he chose it. It feels impossible that it could simply happen to him, like a tornado twisting down out of a clear sky, like planets abandoning their orbits, plummeting into fire or the dark.
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Being out of control, having things happen to you, having things happen entirely without you doing anything. It sounds insane, but it's not something he'd been used to. And it's terrifying.
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"He loved me back," Jedao croaks out, on an awful, wretched sob. "I know he did, I know it wasn't a lie this time. But I still wasn't enough."
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Hm.
This is- well, this makes a lot of things make more sense. He'll keep the pressure on Jedao, press a few kisses to his hair mostly to give him something else to focus on. Then-
"He did. He does, I'd bet. But his choice wasn't because you were... deficient." His voice goes softer. "There's no such thing as 'enough'."
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