Chris is definitely not leaving a charge in this state, especially when he has just screamed his head off and is now lying on his back. He kneels next to him, not quite ready to lie on his back but still wants to make sure he's okay. So, he's kneeling next to Wille, kind of hovering over him, concerned.
He doesn't know what he's doing, okay? He laughs softly at Wilhelm's remark, unsure if all the screaming in the world could exorcise his demons. Or maybe he just wasn't ready for them to leave yet. Realizing Wilhelm wasn't going to like, pass out or something, he folded up next to him, rolling on his side to lay down.
"Do this often? Scream and then lay on the ground?"
As Chris settles onto the ground beside him, something like relief bubbles in his chest. Okay, maybe it does matter a little. The question gets the start of a laugh out of him, just a dry rush of air blowing from his lips.
"Only on special occasions."
Wilhelm lets silence stretch over them. What is there to say after you've poured it all into screaming and smashing things up? The sky hanging above them is clear, which feels all wrong. It was a beautiful blue day like this when Erik died too. Of course, anything in the Horizon can be shaped by will, but he's too worn out to muster much will right now.
"Do you...try to befriend strangers while they're having a meltdown often?" he finally asks, flicking a look over to Chris.
"Honestly, not until I got pulled here." Because the universe had put him on the guardian angel bulletin board or something and he couldn't figure out how to get himself off of it. He was pretty sure he knew the answer though: he couldn't. Whitelighters had sometimes twenty charges at home. He could deal with five. Right? Right?
Chris sprawled a bit on the ground, letting his limbs just hang. He turned his head, looking at the man opposite him. "I'm glad you're okay though. You scared me there for a minute." He wished he could take that back the moment he said it. It didn't make sense. Unless you were privy to their breakdown in your head. Maybe Wilhelm wouldn't look at it too much. Wouldn't take it as....super duper creepy.
The full impact of Chris' words doesn't hit him. He could be referring to anything that's happened in the last thirty minutes, for all Wilhelm knows.
"Why, did you think you'd end up like the rosebushes too?"
He's deflecting with a joke. He knows Chris wasn't scared for himself; he was scared for him. Wilhelm wonders how he must have looked through Chris' eyes, a boy on the verge of tears in an abandoned garden, savagely destroying what's left, bleeding all his hurt out. Now, his fingers find fallen petals to peel apart.
"So, what were you yelling for?"
It only seems fair that Chris should share something when he's caught Wilhelm in such a raw moment.
What was he yelling for? That was a question. Chris didn't answer for a few moments, feeling the ground on his back and the grass against legs. Chris didn't want to answer. But it wasn't like he'd really shared since coming here. A little here, a little there. Nothing terribly inconsequential. Maybe he had too. Maybe that was part of the problem.
He tried to figure out where to start in his journey, where to voice the pain that he had tried to scream out and failed to do so. "I'm dead. I think I'm dead and I failed to save my family."
Then it was Chris' turn to try to deflect with a joke.
It hits Wilhelm like a stone to the chest, smashing past his ribs to bruise his heart. Of all the things he might have expected Chris to name as the fuel for his screaming, that wasn't it. He turns a pale look on him, the torn up petals fluttering the short distance from his hand to the ground. Once again he finds himself wondering what there is to say.
"That sucks," is all he can come up with. It's not nearly enough, but it's as solemn a pronouncement as anyone could make.
He can't even reassure him with the fact that, if he died in his world, at least he can have a second chance here. That doesn't do his family any fucking good.
"Yeah, yeah it does," that about summed it up didn't it? "I could be wrong. It's possible my dad got there in time. " He paused. "But mom was in labor. Am I dead?" Was Wilhelm following any of this? Probably not. Was Chris' life completely confusing? Yes. Yes it was. He hadn't really thought about the intricacies until now. He'd just be like 'yup. I'm dead. But not anymore. Maybe I can get back, now that I'm not dead anymore'.
Chris hadn't expected sympathy from Wilhelm. He'd expected something akin to 'yeah you probably deserved it' or equally as crass. But he certainly didn't want to bring down the mood of the party. Since it had already been such a blast.
".....so now that I'm thinking about it? Might not actually be dead." Not that he could do much as a newborn. And assuming his mom survived the emergency c-section he totally forgot to tell her about. Bang up job, Chris. Bang up job.
He can't form a cohesive picture out of the disjointed fragments of Chris's rambling, and he worries that asking any questions would be like prodding at an open wound. Death is a hard subject for Wilhelm too. It's a live coal sliding down his throat. It's a scalpel peeling away skin and muscle to lodge inside his softest parts.
Inevitably, if he lingers too long on death, it all comes back to his brother, whom he'll be grieving for the rest of his life. And now it'll come back to Kell too, whose fate he would never get to know for certain.
Altogether, Chris is doing a shitty job of cheering him up. After a long pause, Wilhelm heaves a sigh and sits up.
"Let's go for a drive. Come on."
Scraping himself off the grass, he offers a hand to the other guy.
There was a part of Chris that was comfortable with death. A small part, the part that hoped it wouldn't matter. That hoped he didn't actually die. That maybe, just maybe, things could be made right again. Which wasn't really being okay with death. This was a man who had railed against everything to stop death, to save his family. Even if it meant the death of his brother to do it.
The sadness and anguish Wille felt rose up in Chris, as if he needed the physical reminder of how poorly he was doing as a whitelighter. "Sorry, I'm doing a shit job." He reached up to grasp Wilhelm's hand and pick himself up off the grass, dusting himself off. Pretend grass stains, cool.
Was it absolutely terrible of him that he found the brooding thing kind of cute?
"Nice car. I think I stole one just like it once." Wow that came out wrong. Maybe he should just shut up while he was still ahead.
For the most part, Chris's words bounce right off of Wilhelm, as if his mood is an electric field charged around him, or a stone wall sequestering him. But his lips twitch in the ghost of a laugh when he says he once stole a car like this.
All sleek curves and shiny surfaces, the Ferrari waits at the side of an unfinished road that leads to the rose garden. Wilhelm thumbs the key fob, and the lights flash with a smooth beep. Sliding into the red leather driver's seat, he gestures for Chris to join him by patting the headrest of the passenger seat.
"Did you get caught?" he asks as he clicks the key in the ignition. The engine purrs, and the stereo starts pumping out music, which he softens with the twist of a knob.
The car was pretty frickin sweet too. Chris let his fingers glide along the leather finish, and the cold metal of the car, before sliding into the passengers seat. It was pretty nice. It probably cost more than his family's house. For that price, it better be really nice.
He let out a laugh and gave his new friend a lopsided smile. "Yeah. Surrounded by 3 cop cars. Got to spend the night in jail. Mugshots and fingerprints are not sexy." Chris wrinkled his nose. It hadn't been his best idea. But it had been an idea? "In my defense, I was chasing after a demon who also stole a car. And then tried to run me over with it. He got away. I got arrested. Cause that's fair." His life was fun Wilhelm. Honestly it had only gone down hill from there. Cause, shortly after? He died.
Wilhelm has been here long enough that the appearance of demons in Chris's story hardly registers as shocking anymore. There's only a mild lifting of his eyebrows as he shifts into drive and pulls off the shoulder of the road.
"My brother has the same one." Had. Even more than two years later, he has a hard time talking about Erik in the past tense. And he had crashed it too. He had died where Wilhelm is sitting right now. "I guess...I wanted to try it out too."
They're cruising at a good clip now, though falling short of irresponsibly fast. The road stretches out about two car lengths in front of them, keeping pace.
"So...demons? Is that just a normal day for you, or...?"
Chris instantly understood. Or at least though he understood. It was the same thing with Wyatt. "Let me guess, your brother got all the cool shit and you wanted to see what it was like? Yeah, I know the feeling." Never being the favorite. Always being compared to your older brother. By everyone. Not just your family, which was bad enough, but literally everyone? And always, always falling short?
"So, what's the verdict?" Chris thought he knew the answer. It was awesome. Everything Wilhelm had wanted. And yet, it really was only awesome when your older brother had it and you wanted it. Because ultimately? It wasn't about that. It was about someone paying attention to you. Seeing you, as you. And they couldn't do that if you were still hiding behind your older brother.
"I know this is .....not really real? But, I think it's only fair to warn you I can't actually drive. " That was the thing about being half angel. You really didn't need to learn to drive a car. "And yeah, It's kind of a normal day. Back home we didn't even lock the door. Locked door? Means broken door. Better just let the demons in and save the front door from destruction.....and just hope that you're not like, stuck in the shower."
While he doesn't confirm Chris's guess that he suffers from least favorite child syndrome, the silence with which he pins his stare to the road forming ahead answers him loudly enough. Erik was the golden child, while Wilhelm stumbled around in his perfect shadow. He never resented his brother for it — he adored him. Instead, he internalized it. Inside him, even the smallest criticism from his mom, the most glancing comment from his dad, metastasized into the anxiety that he would never be good enough.
"The verdict?" He musters a little grin. "It's even better from the driver's seat."
Too bad Chris can't drive. Not that Wilhelm knew how to drive either when he first recreated the Ferrari in the Horizon. He'd had to teach himself through trial and error. Now he frowns over Chris's explanation of demons.
And that was the difference between Wilhelm and Chris. One of them at least. While they both weren't the favorite, Chris resented it. Chris felt abandoned by everyone who ever cared about him and absolutely resented Wyatt for getting everything he did. For being perfect. Wilhelm's was slightly more healthy in that he never plotted to try and smother his big brother as a toddler.
"I guess I'll have to take your word for it but, it is pretty nice in the passengers seat too."
Chris eyed the road and the interior of the car. It was. Nice. In a very 'I'd have to sell all my organs and maybe I'd be able to afford it' kind of nice. And if his brother had one? Did Wilhelm swim in his money in his free time? Or maybe his brother won the lottery? ....or robbed a bank? Hitman for the mafia?
"Annoying is a good word for it. Usually just to kill us before we kill them. Take control of the house. It's a power game, like cosmically treading water. No one side can win. But, we both keep at it anyway. We all have our roles. Even if they're stupid."
Wilhelm starts to make a don't be stupid face, but then he decides to lean into Chris's assumptions. Affecting lethal seriousness, he slides a warning look up and down his passenger.
"If I told you, I'd have to kill you."
And if he punctuates this statement by swerving sharply to the right, then it's just part of the joke...
The thing about driving in the Horizon is that it's only so big across, and it's crowded with everyone's creations. The road, which builds itself as Wilhelm drives, serpentines between domains and through the forests and fields other Summoned have surrounded themselves with. Before he leaves, he'll take care to undo the roads, but until then he cuts across everyone's imagined landscapes with breathtaking speed. As if by flying fast enough, he might shake off the sadness that clings to him.
Now Chris? Chris is a terrible liar. He's a prolific one, but practice in his case does not make perfect. Wilhelm? Isn't that much better than Chris is. Still, he laughs and goes along with the joke. If he doesn't want to tell him, that's fine. It wasn't like Chris was really anxious to tell him everything either. Or anyone really.
"Ahh, you're a mafia hitman in training then. I'll have to be careful." He pauses as he thinks about how to answer Wilhelm's own question, watching the different domains and fields fly by.
"Eeeeh kind of? I'm a witch. Well half witch." And the other half? Well, Chris did not mention that part. "And yes, witch is a gender neutral term."
He likes Chris better for folding into his joke, accepting it as truth even though it obviously isn't. He doesn't really feel like getting into all of that right now. For one thing, his royal title is a piece of his old life — it has nothing to do with him anymore. For another, after crying and tearing his way through Kell's roses, he doesn't have the energy for dredging up heavy things.
That's what the car is for. Letting him be weightless. He frowns at the road ahead.
"How can somebody be half witch?" It's not like witch is a race or nationality or something. Is it?
Chris knows what it's like to not want to answer questions. To avoid telling the truth and opening up wounds like playing hopscotch over sinkholes. Usually he was pretty good at it. Or at least good at avoiding the question, redirecting, or simply acting like a sketchy shit. The problem came when people asked him point blank. Then? Well, that part needed more practice.
And Wilhelm's question? It was a good one. "I suppose I deserve that one. Normally, you're either a witch, or you're not. It's kind of like a species. You cross a witch with another witch or a regular human, you get a full witch. You cross a witch with another kind of magical being and you get a half witch." Vague enough? "Interbreeding isn't really allowed normally." Did he look sketchy?
So, what Wilhelm is getting out of this is that Chris is also half some other kind of magical being, and he's not all that eager to share what exactly. As he flies down the road, his thoughts turn to Lucifer, who had concealed his true identity from him for months — who was so prickly about the reputation chained to his name, the role assigned to him by centuries of stories.
Wilhelm can't help but wonder what Chris is hiding, but he doesn't want to pry. Not unless the guy gives him a reason to be suspicious.
"You know, it doesn't really matter what you are, or what you're supposed to be. It doesn't matter here. You're just Chris, like I'm just Wilhelm."
"You say that like you believe it." Chris might have believed him more, if his entire life hadn't revolved around who and what he was. If everything in his life wasn't about being a Halliwell, or Wyatt's little brother, or what his father was. Or if he hadn't been killed because of all those things. It was hard to believe that he could just be him.
That he mattered. Not because of what he was but because of who he was as a person. So, Chris looked more than a little skeptical, but he wanted to believe him. His own belief was just falling a little short. "It sounds like you speak from experience." Idly, he wondered how long it took him to come to that conclusion, and more idly, how many laps they could go around the horizon before they started repeating scenery.
It serves as a response to both: he believes it, and he speaks from experience. He leaves it at that for a minute, soaking in the scenery as it slips past, letting the steady thrum of the stereo fill in the gaps.
"Coming to this world is kind of like getting to start over. You're not defined by what happened before. Like...my parents had my whole future planned out for me. It didn't matter what I wanted, they didn't care." His fingers tense around the steering wheel. "But now, I get to choose."
Chris can choose too. Hadn't he said he thought he was dead back in his world? He thought he'd screwed everything up. It's hard, hauling around mistakes you can't go back and fix. For months, Wilhelm had mourned how everything broke between him and Simon. He wallowed in daydreams about what he would say to him if he ever saw him again. A shattered heart isn't the same as a shattered life, but...even if Chris has nothing to return to, he could find something here.
"When I got here I thought that since I was alive again....I could go back. Just. Not be dead." Was it weird the dispassion with which he said that? Like, have you tried turning it off and on again? "But....I kind of like it here. I like the people here. I like that life isn't so hard."
He wasn't there completely. Not yet. Part of him still wondered if he could go home, what would happen. Could he fix things? Could he make everything alright again? But he'd also started a life here. A real life. One that was his and no one else's.
"It's kind of nice not having to exist for other people, isn't it?" Chris still wasn't sure he could ever escape the fact that he was half-whitelighter. It was a fact that reared its head almost every moment of his life. But maybe there was a difference between ignoring it and accepting it.
Wilhelm hums in agreement. It's nice, being his own person. It was a long journey that brought him there.
"There's nothing wrong with living your own life."
He felt guilty about it for a long time. Guilty for not wanting to go back to his old life. Guilty for disappointing his parents again, despite the anger burning him down for how his mom loved the family's reputation more than she loved him. Guilty, most of all, for letting Erik down after he vowed to follow in his footsteps the best he could.
Sometimes he still does. But he's made his choice, and he would never choose differently.
"I don't know if it's possible for me to live my own life but, I'm sure going to give it one hell of a try."
It was that damn half whitelighter thing, rearing its head. Somehow, it always came down to that. Or was it because Chris let it come down to that? Because he'd refused to accept that part of himself kicking and screaming to the point where it was actively harming him?
And Chris? Chris felt guilty too. For finally existing without Wyatt. Not existing for Wyatt. And everyone else he hurt. For just enjoying himself, figuring out about himself without. Everything else. He was supposed to fix things. Wasn't he? Did that change because he was dead?
"Listen, I know we're in different territories, but. If you ever need a friend, just call my name. I'll hear. I can't....get to you unless it's in the Horizon but. I'll come."
Was that weird? That was weird right? He really wasn't good at this guardian angel/whitelighter thing.
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abraxaslogs2024-09-01 09:06 pm
no subject
He doesn't know what he's doing, okay? He laughs softly at Wilhelm's remark, unsure if all the screaming in the world could exorcise his demons. Or maybe he just wasn't ready for them to leave yet. Realizing Wilhelm wasn't going to like, pass out or something, he folded up next to him, rolling on his side to lay down.
"Do this often? Scream and then lay on the ground?"
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"Only on special occasions."
Wilhelm lets silence stretch over them. What is there to say after you've poured it all into screaming and smashing things up? The sky hanging above them is clear, which feels all wrong. It was a beautiful blue day like this when Erik died too. Of course, anything in the Horizon can be shaped by will, but he's too worn out to muster much will right now.
"Do you...try to befriend strangers while they're having a meltdown often?" he finally asks, flicking a look over to Chris.
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Chris sprawled a bit on the ground, letting his limbs just hang. He turned his head, looking at the man opposite him. "I'm glad you're okay though. You scared me there for a minute." He wished he could take that back the moment he said it. It didn't make sense. Unless you were privy to their breakdown in your head. Maybe Wilhelm wouldn't look at it too much. Wouldn't take it as....super duper creepy.
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"Why, did you think you'd end up like the rosebushes too?"
He's deflecting with a joke. He knows Chris wasn't scared for himself; he was scared for him. Wilhelm wonders how he must have looked through Chris' eyes, a boy on the verge of tears in an abandoned garden, savagely destroying what's left, bleeding all his hurt out. Now, his fingers find fallen petals to peel apart.
"So, what were you yelling for?"
It only seems fair that Chris should share something when he's caught Wilhelm in such a raw moment.
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He tried to figure out where to start in his journey, where to voice the pain that he had tried to scream out and failed to do so. "I'm dead. I think I'm dead and I failed to save my family."
Then it was Chris' turn to try to deflect with a joke.
"Aren't you glad I'm such good company?"
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"That sucks," is all he can come up with. It's not nearly enough, but it's as solemn a pronouncement as anyone could make.
He can't even reassure him with the fact that, if he died in his world, at least he can have a second chance here. That doesn't do his family any fucking good.
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Chris hadn't expected sympathy from Wilhelm. He'd expected something akin to 'yeah you probably deserved it' or equally as crass. But he certainly didn't want to bring down the mood of the party. Since it had already been such a blast.
".....so now that I'm thinking about it? Might not actually be dead." Not that he could do much as a newborn. And assuming his mom survived the emergency c-section he totally forgot to tell her about. Bang up job, Chris. Bang up job.
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Inevitably, if he lingers too long on death, it all comes back to his brother, whom he'll be grieving for the rest of his life. And now it'll come back to Kell too, whose fate he would never get to know for certain.
Altogether, Chris is doing a shitty job of cheering him up. After a long pause, Wilhelm heaves a sigh and sits up.
"Let's go for a drive. Come on."
Scraping himself off the grass, he offers a hand to the other guy.
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The sadness and anguish Wille felt rose up in Chris, as if he needed the physical reminder of how poorly he was doing as a whitelighter. "Sorry, I'm doing a shit job." He reached up to grasp Wilhelm's hand and pick himself up off the grass, dusting himself off. Pretend grass stains, cool.
Was it absolutely terrible of him that he found the brooding thing kind of cute?
"Nice car. I think I stole one just like it once." Wow that came out wrong. Maybe he should just shut up while he was still ahead.
no subject
All sleek curves and shiny surfaces, the Ferrari waits at the side of an unfinished road that leads to the rose garden. Wilhelm thumbs the key fob, and the lights flash with a smooth beep. Sliding into the red leather driver's seat, he gestures for Chris to join him by patting the headrest of the passenger seat.
"Did you get caught?" he asks as he clicks the key in the ignition. The engine purrs, and the stereo starts pumping out music, which he softens with the twist of a knob.
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He let out a laugh and gave his new friend a lopsided smile. "Yeah. Surrounded by 3 cop cars. Got to spend the night in jail. Mugshots and fingerprints are not sexy." Chris wrinkled his nose. It hadn't been his best idea. But it had been an idea? "In my defense, I was chasing after a demon who also stole a car. And then tried to run me over with it. He got away. I got arrested. Cause that's fair." His life was fun Wilhelm. Honestly it had only gone down hill from there. Cause, shortly after? He died.
"Is this your dream car or what?"
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"My brother has the same one." Had. Even more than two years later, he has a hard time talking about Erik in the past tense. And he had crashed it too. He had died where Wilhelm is sitting right now. "I guess...I wanted to try it out too."
They're cruising at a good clip now, though falling short of irresponsibly fast. The road stretches out about two car lengths in front of them, keeping pace.
"So...demons? Is that just a normal day for you, or...?"
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"So, what's the verdict?" Chris thought he knew the answer. It was awesome. Everything Wilhelm had wanted. And yet, it really was only awesome when your older brother had it and you wanted it. Because ultimately? It wasn't about that. It was about someone paying attention to you. Seeing you, as you. And they couldn't do that if you were still hiding behind your older brother.
"I know this is .....not really real? But, I think it's only fair to warn you I can't actually drive. " That was the thing about being half angel. You really didn't need to learn to drive a car. "And yeah, It's kind of a normal day. Back home we didn't even lock the door. Locked door? Means broken door. Better just let the demons in and save the front door from destruction.....and just hope that you're not like, stuck in the shower."
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"The verdict?" He musters a little grin. "It's even better from the driver's seat."
Too bad Chris can't drive. Not that Wilhelm knew how to drive either when he first recreated the Ferrari in the Horizon. He'd had to teach himself through trial and error. Now he frowns over Chris's explanation of demons.
"They sound annoying. What do they want, anyway?"
no subject
"I guess I'll have to take your word for it but, it is pretty nice in the passengers seat too."
Chris eyed the road and the interior of the car. It was. Nice. In a very 'I'd have to sell all my organs and maybe I'd be able to afford it' kind of nice. And if his brother had one? Did Wilhelm swim in his money in his free time? Or maybe his brother won the lottery? ....or robbed a bank? Hitman for the mafia?
"Annoying is a good word for it. Usually just to kill us before we kill them. Take control of the house. It's a power game, like cosmically treading water. No one side can win. But, we both keep at it anyway. We all have our roles. Even if they're stupid."
Chris paused.
"Is your brother a mafia hitman?"
no subject
"If I told you, I'd have to kill you."
And if he punctuates this statement by swerving sharply to the right, then it's just part of the joke...
The thing about driving in the Horizon is that it's only so big across, and it's crowded with everyone's creations. The road, which builds itself as Wilhelm drives, serpentines between domains and through the forests and fields other Summoned have surrounded themselves with. Before he leaves, he'll take care to undo the roads, but until then he cuts across everyone's imagined landscapes with breathtaking speed. As if by flying fast enough, he might shake off the sadness that clings to him.
"What about you, are you, like, a demon hunter?"
no subject
"Ahh, you're a mafia hitman in training then. I'll have to be careful." He pauses as he thinks about how to answer Wilhelm's own question, watching the different domains and fields fly by.
"Eeeeh kind of? I'm a witch. Well half witch." And the other half? Well, Chris did not mention that part. "And yes, witch is a gender neutral term."
no subject
That's what the car is for. Letting him be weightless. He frowns at the road ahead.
"How can somebody be half witch?" It's not like witch is a race or nationality or something. Is it?
no subject
And Wilhelm's question? It was a good one. "I suppose I deserve that one. Normally, you're either a witch, or you're not. It's kind of like a species. You cross a witch with another witch or a regular human, you get a full witch. You cross a witch with another kind of magical being and you get a half witch." Vague enough? "Interbreeding isn't really allowed normally." Did he look sketchy?
no subject
Wilhelm can't help but wonder what Chris is hiding, but he doesn't want to pry. Not unless the guy gives him a reason to be suspicious.
"You know, it doesn't really matter what you are, or what you're supposed to be. It doesn't matter here. You're just Chris, like I'm just Wilhelm."
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That he mattered. Not because of what he was but because of who he was as a person. So, Chris looked more than a little skeptical, but he wanted to believe him. His own belief was just falling a little short. "It sounds like you speak from experience." Idly, he wondered how long it took him to come to that conclusion, and more idly, how many laps they could go around the horizon before they started repeating scenery.
no subject
It serves as a response to both: he believes it, and he speaks from experience. He leaves it at that for a minute, soaking in the scenery as it slips past, letting the steady thrum of the stereo fill in the gaps.
"Coming to this world is kind of like getting to start over. You're not defined by what happened before. Like...my parents had my whole future planned out for me. It didn't matter what I wanted, they didn't care." His fingers tense around the steering wheel. "But now, I get to choose."
Chris can choose too. Hadn't he said he thought he was dead back in his world? He thought he'd screwed everything up. It's hard, hauling around mistakes you can't go back and fix. For months, Wilhelm had mourned how everything broke between him and Simon. He wallowed in daydreams about what he would say to him if he ever saw him again. A shattered heart isn't the same as a shattered life, but...even if Chris has nothing to return to, he could find something here.
no subject
He wasn't there completely. Not yet. Part of him still wondered if he could go home, what would happen. Could he fix things? Could he make everything alright again? But he'd also started a life here. A real life. One that was his and no one else's.
"It's kind of nice not having to exist for other people, isn't it?" Chris still wasn't sure he could ever escape the fact that he was half-whitelighter. It was a fact that reared its head almost every moment of his life. But maybe there was a difference between ignoring it and accepting it.
no subject
"There's nothing wrong with living your own life."
He felt guilty about it for a long time. Guilty for not wanting to go back to his old life. Guilty for disappointing his parents again, despite the anger burning him down for how his mom loved the family's reputation more than she loved him. Guilty, most of all, for letting Erik down after he vowed to follow in his footsteps the best he could.
Sometimes he still does. But he's made his choice, and he would never choose differently.
no subject
It was that damn half whitelighter thing, rearing its head. Somehow, it always came down to that. Or was it because Chris let it come down to that? Because he'd refused to accept that part of himself kicking and screaming to the point where it was actively harming him?
And Chris? Chris felt guilty too. For finally existing without Wyatt. Not existing for Wyatt. And everyone else he hurt. For just enjoying himself, figuring out about himself without. Everything else. He was supposed to fix things. Wasn't he? Did that change because he was dead?
"Listen, I know we're in different territories, but. If you ever need a friend, just call my name. I'll hear. I can't....get to you unless it's in the Horizon but. I'll come."
Was that weird? That was weird right? He really wasn't good at this guardian angel/whitelighter thing.
(no subject)