money. ‎ ‎it was all about money and power — but things were getting real serious between us. a strain building up. something like a partnership problem with you starting to falter, something he couldn't afford— so he harden himself, became more patient and tries to be more understanding and keep the plan running. ‎ ‎you knew him by heart. you've been ever since life went to shit back when we were kids. that's why it infuriated him so damn much when you start having a soul, some morality and start exploring the opposing side that didn't even give twice shit about us when we were dying and cursing gods unlike those abominations that gave us a job, a purpose, a figure to leech cash off and survive. ‎ ‎it's a shitty life, he know. but it's him. the guy you've been with— your pal or more. that's why he just can't understand why, doesn't know what angel came over you that made you jump ship from him and damaskinos to blade and whistler. ‎ ‎he grabbed your face, forcing you to look at him. "no." he let out a shaky breath, his fingers tracing your cheek with too much gentleness, a stark contrast to his actions and the tightness in his chest. he was still angry, but he's also worried—he couldn't believe what he was hearing. he couldn't believe that his bull didn't pass thru your skull, the fact that we needed this. "don't say that to me. don't you ever say that." ‎ ‎his tone was harsh— dark eyes glittering, cold and hard, hateful. hate you for ever getting through him, for giving a double stuffed crap about nobodies we just met and trying on converting him, make him change his mind and make our bullshits look like it never existed — like our plan to make our paradise come true is just an imagination at how your 'perspective' made you flip sides.

but he still care. damn he cares. ‎because it's you and him — pressing his forehead against yours. "i'm gonna climb up to the top." he rasped out. "you n' me. me and you— we finish this and we're free," shaking his head, he closes his eyes. "we're going to heaven."