[It's a weight that's been with him for too long, an open wound that he's covered with pointless egotism and anger. A festering sore that has been tended to as much as it's been acknowledged. He's tried to move past it, tried to act like it isn't there, but it's behind everything he does. It's at his core, and the longer he ignores it, the longer it unwittingly corrupts him.
At first it's like he's not even aware she's there, lost to his anger and disappointment. But when her hands touch his, there's a noticeable twitch in his fingers, his wide eyes are staring at nothing, yet seem so fixed on something. It's not usual for such a break to happen when it's not concerning a Pokèmon battle, but the amount of emotions that have been surging through him the past week? It was well overdue. The air around them feels dry, hollow even, and it combats the warmth Jill is giving off.
Her hands succeed in getting him to let go, his breath is quick and shallow, and he's sweating. There's not much resistance once his hands let go of his hair, and she's easily able to jerk them away from himself. Perhaps it's just the time that's passed, mere seconds that have felt like individual eternities, or her combined touch and the jerk of his arms that snaps him back. Either way, his eyes focus, and he looks to her with both an expression of bafflement and loss. Her words sound far off, muffled, like she's speaking through a wall, even though he sees her. She's right there, she's touching him, but there's a ringing in his mind as his emotions come down and... crash.
Without thinking, he's following her instructions. Breathing in through his nose. Breathing out through his mouth. Once he feels properly grounded, that ringing far gone, and the world feels more real than some distant thought or memory, he realizes what he's done—what she's seen. His head hurts.]
Fuck.
[It's all he says. He's tried so hard to keep that in check, keep those kinds of reactions under control. He's an idiot for not realizing that it wasn't himself that kept that at bay, but rather the comfort Jill offered him. The moment she wasn't that source of comfort, he lost the control he thought he had. He should have made that connection sooner, honestly, seeing as he fell into those cycles the moment he wasn't around her, but Guzma has never been one to think as critically as he ought to.]
Jill—shit.
[What does he even say, how does he even explain that?]
Oh yes I see that, I was a fool to have doubted him
At first it's like he's not even aware she's there, lost to his anger and disappointment. But when her hands touch his, there's a noticeable twitch in his fingers, his wide eyes are staring at nothing, yet seem so fixed on something. It's not usual for such a break to happen when it's not concerning a Pokèmon battle, but the amount of emotions that have been surging through him the past week? It was well overdue. The air around them feels dry, hollow even, and it combats the warmth Jill is giving off.
Her hands succeed in getting him to let go, his breath is quick and shallow, and he's sweating. There's not much resistance once his hands let go of his hair, and she's easily able to jerk them away from himself. Perhaps it's just the time that's passed, mere seconds that have felt like individual eternities, or her combined touch and the jerk of his arms that snaps him back. Either way, his eyes focus, and he looks to her with both an expression of bafflement and loss. Her words sound far off, muffled, like she's speaking through a wall, even though he sees her. She's right there, she's touching him, but there's a ringing in his mind as his emotions come down and... crash.
Without thinking, he's following her instructions. Breathing in through his nose. Breathing out through his mouth. Once he feels properly grounded, that ringing far gone, and the world feels more real than some distant thought or memory, he realizes what he's done—what she's seen. His head hurts.]
Fuck.
[It's all he says. He's tried so hard to keep that in check, keep those kinds of reactions under control. He's an idiot for not realizing that it wasn't himself that kept that at bay, but rather the comfort Jill offered him. The moment she wasn't that source of comfort, he lost the control he thought he had. He should have made that connection sooner, honestly, seeing as he fell into those cycles the moment he wasn't around her, but Guzma has never been one to think as critically as he ought to.]
Jill—shit.
[What does he even say, how does he even explain that?]