[Even lost in his thoughts as he is, Asch can feel Luke there, how close he is, the way he's almost touching, but not quite. He ducks his head lower, hand lifting to cover his face, and he half-jerks away from the hands even before they can touch him, his body trembling.]
Don't-
[His voice catches, and he curses inwardly, trying again.]
Don't touch me...
[He doesn't want to be held or consoled or comforted. He killed his mother. Their mother. Who wasn't. Dammit. And even more than that - which is horrifying in its own way, what he values right now - he doesn't want Luke to see his distress. That killing a fake would be enough to break him like this, enough to make him weep...
To cry over the body of an enemy is shameful, pathetic. He'd been raised to recognize this. He'd mocked Luke for it before. But his body just won't stop.
All he can do is hide it- his shame, his grief, his pain. It's all he's ever known to do.]
no subject
Don't-
[His voice catches, and he curses inwardly, trying again.]
Don't touch me...
[He doesn't want to be held or consoled or comforted. He killed his mother. Their mother. Who wasn't. Dammit. And even more than that - which is horrifying in its own way, what he values right now - he doesn't want Luke to see his distress. That killing a fake would be enough to break him like this, enough to make him weep...
To cry over the body of an enemy is shameful, pathetic. He'd been raised to recognize this. He'd mocked Luke for it before. But his body just won't stop.
All he can do is hide it- his shame, his grief, his pain. It's all he's ever known to do.]