I dunno. Probably prison, maybe, y'know. [ A death sentence.
He's considered it, thought about it. Maybe he didn't take the time to think about it enough at home, but he knows he would have accepted whatever came from it. ]
I'd rather him be dead and me be in jail than him feeding more people to monsters.
[ Flynn's hand slams into the space between them. Pine needles stab his palm. He ignores it in favor of holding Yuri's gaze, fear simmering sharply into anger because it's the only thing Flynn has ever known to do with it. ]
You don't get sent to jail for murdering a member of the Council, a noble member of the Council.
[ He's doing it. He's doing the thing, the infuriating thing where he pretends to be five steps behind Flynn when Yuri knows very well what he's talking about, what has fear lurching acid through his body. Flynn grits his teeth and bites out, sharp, trying and failing to keep all that feeling out of his voice, ]
[ Flynn's anger is boiling over, and Yuri is sure that a punch isn't far off. He sighs, and pushes his hair back from his face. He's not sure what the point of his fight is. He'd already made his choice. He has no idea if he could take it back, now, or if he would. ]
What happens if I didn't do it? More people are fed to monsters for that guy's amusement. Two people dead is much better than dozens.
He can't breathe for a moment, staring at a patch of moss on the base of the tree he's been sleeping in.
He thinks he knows what Flynn means, but it still doesn't quite make sense in his head. Yuri's life doesn't matter. He's just bidding his time until he dies, until something takes him out. At least this way, it was by his own choices, choosing to kill Ragou and accept the consequences. That's better than being killed by a monster or by his own complacency.
He scoffs. So much for the curry. He isn't hungry anymore. ]
What about the people he's already killed, huh? Are their lives worth less than mine? That's dumb.
His own ears are ringingâor maybe that's his heart, slamming staccato in his skull, drowning out the rest of the world. He sucks in another breath, and it still doesn't feel like enough, and so he tries again, staring at Yuri who is misunderstanding him, again, because Flynn is never ever good enough at saying what he means to actually... say it.
He lets his breath out again. Lets his head drop, feels his shoulders and everything else drop too, and ends up staring at his own knuckles pressed into pine needles, white with tension. ]
[ Silence settles uncomfortably, and Yuri is reminded exactly why they haven't seen eye-to-eye in three years. They're living different lives, their priorities are different even if they still want the same things. Yuri's skin crawls and he shivers, ears twitching, his tail flicking on the mossy underbrush. ]
Look. [ He finally manages to pull the words out of himself like pulling glass out of a wound ] I made the choice. Maybe the me back home went through with it, or I'm going to when I go back. He has to be stopped.
He should, probably, be opposed to Ragou dying. It's not an ethically correct thing to imagine someone getting murdered as a solution to the problem of them existing, but Flynn has done it countless times since this investigation started, and the idea that Yuri could justâwith a single swipe of his sword, probablyâ
He should be a lot more against it. It ties him into knots that the thing that bothers him here is the consequences falling on Yuri, crushing the life out of him because Flynn knows intimately how the empire works now, and stepping that far out of lineâdoing that, taking justice into your own handsâ
Could Yuri, really? Kill him in cold blood, quiet enough not to get caught? Flynn doesn't know. Yuri doesn't know, either. He hasn't had the chance to do it, and the problem is, Flynn doesn't have a better solution. Yuri is right. If Ragou isn't stopped, finally and for good, then he'll continue, and then the blood of countless more people will be on Flynn's hands. A little blood on Yuri's, the possibility of Yuri dying and the certainty of no more Ragou, or a hundred other terrified civilians locked in a basement to be torn to shreds? Ragou would certainly escalate out of anger. Flynn is sure of that much.
He's sure of so little else.
He's holding a handful of pine needles. Flynn doesn't know when that happened. His hand is steady, but the rest of him feels shaky and light, knotted up and like he's unanchored from the ground at the same time. His skin burns. His eyes burn, too. There's no good answer here, and Yuri is right, Flynn is selfish for prioritizing Yuri's life over all those people but he can'tâ ]
I hate this.
[ It's not a solution. It's not even angry: the words come out small and pathetic, and Flynn swallows them back, or tries to. Yuri's tail flicks into his periphery and out again, and Flynn squeezes his eyes shut, blocks out the world. ]
I hateâ Iâ if we go home, and things are exactly like they wereâ
[ It's like Yuri is watching him deflate. Over the three years Flynn has been a knight, he's seen his best friend disappear, fade into the background, subsume himself into being a knight. The Empire is stealing Flynn away from him, one piece at a time, leaving this exhausted, defeated man in front of him. A part of him wants to go to Flynn, to comfort him, but that reminds him of hot, of hands and mouths and kissing and fuck. He can't think about that. He can't move. He can just watch Flynn and wish he were better, that he were more, that he could do more.
Instead, all he can do is say three words, small and barely there ]
[ For a moment, they're ten again, and they've just watched someone else get dragged away by the Knights for something that's barely a crime. Flynn is spitting mad but shouting will only make it worse, Hanks says, and so they shut their mouths and clasp their hands and hate this, together, the two of them against the world. Later that night Flynn had laid out everything wrong with the knights to a furiously-nodding Yuri, had worked himself into angry tears at the unfairness of it all, and Yuri had told him so, let's do something about it and a little light had flickered up in the darkness of Flynn's anger.
They hate this. It's unfair, and it's awful, and change is slow to come. Yuri believes he can fix it, though.
And Yuri is here.
Flynn drags in another breath. This one scrapes his throat raw, but he opens his eyes and sees his own sword-calloused hands, still clenched tight. He looks up, and Yuri is there in front of him, looking just as lost, just as unsure.
Flynn swallows. ]
Maybeâ
[ his voice is shaky. Flynn presses on, because it's Yuri, and because messy emotions are the thing you trust your best friend with, apparently. Flynn certainly feels like a mess. Yuri will probably look at him and see a falling-apart shell of a knight who can't do anything about anything, but that's okay, because right now that's what Flynn is. ]
Maybe that's why we're here. Yuri, did youâif you thought you had any other way of stopping him...
[ Yuri doesn't see that. Instead, he sees his friend, his best friend, his brother, the man who he loves more than anyone else in the world, or worlds. The one person who knows him, really knows him, despite everything. The man who Yuri would die for without a second thought.
He sees that man, tired and wrung out, at the end of his rope, hurt, betrayed, by the country he committed himself to. Yuri's resolve crystalizes. Of course, he's going to do it. He's going to get better, to be better for Flynn. He's going to reach his potential, so he can earn his place by Flynn's side ]
I would have tried it. [ At least, he wants to believe that. He lets out a breath. ] I'll look for another way.
[ Flynn says it without thinking, his voice finally steady. He hesitates, and then shifts closer, pine needles prickling through his pants. He ignores them, pressing close enough that his knees nudge into Yuri's, that he is firmly in Yuri's space. He wants to be closer. He wants toâ he wants to push himself into Yuri's arms like they did when they were kids, wants to shove his nose into Yuri's hair like they did earlier, lean on him, but he's done that enough.
This is as close as he gets. Every cell in his body tells him to get closer but Flynn sits and meets Yuri's eyes and holds up his forearm. The silence stretches, and Flynn's heart is in his throat, and he wantsâ
he wantsâ
But he just swallows and says, unsteadier, ] If we're both working on it, then...
[ Fuck, fuck, fuck he's close. He's close and Yuri can't breathe, he can't think, his body wants to move in toward him, to touch him, to press his lips to Flynn's again, but he can't move. He stares up at Flynn, and it takes him a long moment to comprehend what Flynn is trying to do. But then he gets it, and he pushes himself up to his own knees. Their bodies are nearly flush, and Yuri touches his forearm to Flynn's, in the sign they've used since they were eight and their hands were a mess from helping out with cleaning and had high-fived with their arms instead.
Something curls in him, hooking in his gut, and he meets Flynn's eyes and he feels sure, certain, that this is right. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
He's considered it, thought about it. Maybe he didn't take the time to think about it enough at home, but he knows he would have accepted whatever came from it. ]
I'd rather him be dead and me be in jail than him feeding more people to monsters.
no subject
[ Flynn's hand slams into the space between them. Pine needles stab his palm. He ignores it in favor of holding Yuri's gaze, fear simmering sharply into anger because it's the only thing Flynn has ever known to do with it. ]
You don't get sent to jail for murdering a member of the Council, a noble member of the Council.
no subject
They've sent me to jail for much less.
no subject
The penalty for a crime like that is death.
no subject
[ Flynn's anger is boiling over, and Yuri is sure that a punch isn't far off. He sighs, and pushes his hair back from his face. He's not sure what the point of his fight is. He'd already made his choice. He has no idea if he could take it back, now, or if he would. ]
What happens if I didn't do it? More people are fed to monsters for that guy's amusement. Two people dead is much better than dozens.
no subject
no subject
He can't breathe for a moment, staring at a patch of moss on the base of the tree he's been sleeping in.
He thinks he knows what Flynn means, but it still doesn't quite make sense in his head. Yuri's life doesn't matter. He's just bidding his time until he dies, until something takes him out. At least this way, it was by his own choices, choosing to kill Ragou and accept the consequences. That's better than being killed by a monster or by his own complacency.
He scoffs. So much for the curry. He isn't hungry anymore. ]
What about the people he's already killed, huh? Are their lives worth less than mine? That's dumb.
no subject
His own ears are ringingâor maybe that's his heart, slamming staccato in his skull, drowning out the rest of the world. He sucks in another breath, and it still doesn't feel like enough, and so he tries again, staring at Yuri who is misunderstanding him, again, because Flynn is never ever good enough at saying what he means to actually... say it.
He lets his breath out again. Lets his head drop, feels his shoulders and everything else drop too, and ends up staring at his own knuckles pressed into pine needles, white with tension. ]
That's not what I meant.
no subject
Look. [ He finally manages to pull the words out of himself like pulling glass out of a wound ] I made the choice. Maybe the me back home went through with it, or I'm going to when I go back. He has to be stopped.
no subject
Flynn doesn't disagree. On principle.
He should, probably, be opposed to Ragou dying. It's not an ethically correct thing to imagine someone getting murdered as a solution to the problem of them existing, but Flynn has done it countless times since this investigation started, and the idea that Yuri could justâwith a single swipe of his sword, probablyâ
He should be a lot more against it. It ties him into knots that the thing that bothers him here is the consequences falling on Yuri, crushing the life out of him because Flynn knows intimately how the empire works now, and stepping that far out of lineâdoing that, taking justice into your own handsâ
Could Yuri, really? Kill him in cold blood, quiet enough not to get caught? Flynn doesn't know. Yuri doesn't know, either. He hasn't had the chance to do it, and the problem is, Flynn doesn't have a better solution. Yuri is right. If Ragou isn't stopped, finally and for good, then he'll continue, and then the blood of countless more people will be on Flynn's hands. A little blood on Yuri's, the possibility of Yuri dying and the certainty of no more Ragou, or a hundred other terrified civilians locked in a basement to be torn to shreds? Ragou would certainly escalate out of anger. Flynn is sure of that much.
He's sure of so little else.
He's holding a handful of pine needles. Flynn doesn't know when that happened. His hand is steady, but the rest of him feels shaky and light, knotted up and like he's unanchored from the ground at the same time. His skin burns. His eyes burn, too. There's no good answer here, and Yuri is right, Flynn is selfish for prioritizing Yuri's life over all those people but he can'tâ ]
I hate this.
[ It's not a solution. It's not even angry: the words come out small and pathetic, and Flynn swallows them back, or tries to. Yuri's tail flicks into his periphery and out again, and Flynn squeezes his eyes shut, blocks out the world. ]
I hateâ Iâ if we go home, and things are exactly like they wereâ
no subject
Instead, all he can do is say three words, small and barely there ]
Yeah. Me too.
no subject
They hate this. It's unfair, and it's awful, and change is slow to come. Yuri believes he can fix it, though.
And Yuri is here.
Flynn drags in another breath. This one scrapes his throat raw, but he opens his eyes and sees his own sword-calloused hands, still clenched tight. He looks up, and Yuri is there in front of him, looking just as lost, just as unsure.
Flynn swallows. ]
Maybeâ
[ his voice is shaky. Flynn presses on, because it's Yuri, and because messy emotions are the thing you trust your best friend with, apparently. Flynn certainly feels like a mess. Yuri will probably look at him and see a falling-apart shell of a knight who can't do anything about anything, but that's okay, because right now that's what Flynn is. ]
Maybe that's why we're here. Yuri, did youâif you thought you had any other way of stopping him...
no subject
He sees that man, tired and wrung out, at the end of his rope, hurt, betrayed, by the country he committed himself to. Yuri's resolve crystalizes. Of course, he's going to do it. He's going to get better, to be better for Flynn. He's going to reach his potential, so he can earn his place by Flynn's side ]
I would have tried it. [ At least, he wants to believe that. He lets out a breath. ] I'll look for another way.
no subject
[ Flynn says it without thinking, his voice finally steady. He hesitates, and then shifts closer, pine needles prickling through his pants. He ignores them, pressing close enough that his knees nudge into Yuri's, that he is firmly in Yuri's space. He wants to be closer. He wants toâ he wants to push himself into Yuri's arms like they did when they were kids, wants to shove his nose into Yuri's hair like they did earlier, lean on him, but he's done that enough.
This is as close as he gets. Every cell in his body tells him to get closer but Flynn sits and meets Yuri's eyes and holds up his forearm. The silence stretches, and Flynn's heart is in his throat, and he wantsâ
he wantsâ
But he just swallows and says, unsteadier, ] If we're both working on it, then...
no subject
Something curls in him, hooking in his gut, and he meets Flynn's eyes and he feels sure, certain, that this is right. ]
Then we're gonna figure it out.