The casualty of their sudden ascent isn't the two of them, it's the pack of cigarettes and the lighter he'd fished out earlier and set upon his thigh. Reno doesn't even get the chance to watch both things plummet down off the edge of the cliff, but that might be because he doesn't take the time to look down at all. Even as the ridge of his shoe slides against the edge and threatens to nearly give way and send him slipping down, he only keeps his eyes up, up, on Tseng's face. All at once the evil is gone from his face, as if it was never there. He smiles at Tseng the way he did when he found him, when he came running frantically down the cliffside to follow the sound of his hysterical laughter. Like he's never been happier to see anyone in his entire life. Like all is right in the world and there's nothing but goodness and light and purity and harmony in the air around them.
It's not fake, but it is. It's only fake in the sense that he knows so much better now, but the sentiment is the same. He is really, truly happy to have Tseng back. His family, the only thing he has ever known that's worth knowing. Him, and Rude, and to some extent Rufus—they're everything. To have them granted back to him is the greatest gift he could ever receive, one he doesn't intend to take for granted. That's such a sweet, saccharine thought. He's capable of sweet and saccharine things sometimes, really.
Trouble is, not taking it for granted means a whole fucking lot of trouble.
They sway and Reno does what he wanted to do and puts his arms around Tseng after all. The way he does it, though, is frighteningly impulsive. Sudden and deliberate, as if he'd clapped his hands loudly in front of Tseng's face just to make him flinch, grabbing onto him with a quickness and letting their bodies lean as if to suggest that he's going to answer by throwing them right over the edge without a single word on the matter. But they right themselves and Tseng's lips are against his skin, teeth grazing against bone, and he laughs, eyes stinging and burning. No tears, though. Of course not. This is a happy occasion. He's so, so, so fucking (traumatized, disturbed, enraged, infuriated, twisted, afraid, mutinous, scheming, vengeful, hollow, sickened, hurt, lost) happy. "You wanna take the day off, again?" he jokes, and it's not even the most morbid thing he could say. That was the second of two optional responses. "Spend the night floating?"
That's as close as he'll get to describing what it was like after the end. At least for right now. Instead, his arms gentle only somewhat around Tseng's waist. One arm drops away entirely, and it's only because he's stricken by another impulse to touch his face. To lay his hand right where he had placed it before, yesterday morning, right on his cheek. Right where the handprint that Rude surely saw in the shape of his fingers was, an imprint of bloody, miserable comfort. Reno imitates pressing his fingertips there for the sake of taking himself back to that moment. Right before he plunged his hands wrist deep in Tseng's innards and wrung the last vestiges of life out of him, at his behest.
"We'll get another chance to try it," Reno says in that same low, soft reassuring voice that he used in that room full of blood. It's warm there. You'll be okay.
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It's not fake, but it is. It's only fake in the sense that he knows so much better now, but the sentiment is the same. He is really, truly happy to have Tseng back. His family, the only thing he has ever known that's worth knowing. Him, and Rude, and to some extent Rufus—they're everything. To have them granted back to him is the greatest gift he could ever receive, one he doesn't intend to take for granted. That's such a sweet, saccharine thought. He's capable of sweet and saccharine things sometimes, really.
Trouble is, not taking it for granted means a whole fucking lot of trouble.
They sway and Reno does what he wanted to do and puts his arms around Tseng after all. The way he does it, though, is frighteningly impulsive. Sudden and deliberate, as if he'd clapped his hands loudly in front of Tseng's face just to make him flinch, grabbing onto him with a quickness and letting their bodies lean as if to suggest that he's going to answer by throwing them right over the edge without a single word on the matter. But they right themselves and Tseng's lips are against his skin, teeth grazing against bone, and he laughs, eyes stinging and burning. No tears, though. Of course not. This is a happy occasion. He's so, so, so fucking (traumatized, disturbed, enraged, infuriated, twisted, afraid, mutinous, scheming, vengeful, hollow, sickened, hurt, lost) happy. "You wanna take the day off, again?" he jokes, and it's not even the most morbid thing he could say. That was the second of two optional responses. "Spend the night floating?"
That's as close as he'll get to describing what it was like after the end. At least for right now. Instead, his arms gentle only somewhat around Tseng's waist. One arm drops away entirely, and it's only because he's stricken by another impulse to touch his face. To lay his hand right where he had placed it before, yesterday morning, right on his cheek. Right where the handprint that Rude surely saw in the shape of his fingers was, an imprint of bloody, miserable comfort. Reno imitates pressing his fingertips there for the sake of taking himself back to that moment. Right before he plunged his hands wrist deep in Tseng's innards and wrung the last vestiges of life out of him, at his behest.
"We'll get another chance to try it," Reno says in that same low, soft reassuring voice that he used in that room full of blood. It's warm there. You'll be okay.