Grief. Crippling, stifling, raw grief. How could you grieve someone who was not dead? If that someone still walked the earth, how could one feel such a gaping hole in their lives?
Roderich wasn't gone in the sense that he had died, but to Basch, he was as good as dead. That damn brunette had broken him into a hundred thousand tiny shards, and left him on his knees, clutching the bloodied cavern where his heart had used to be.
"I thought you cared about me!" He had yelled, voice hoarse with anger and tears.
"I thought the same," Roderich had replied bitterly. "I guess we were both wrong."
Basch struggled to his feet, fury smoldering in green eyes as Bern went up in tongues of hungry flames around them. His face was smudged with soot and blood, and his clothes were more tattered than usual, but there was no denying the anger masking a deep hurt and betrayal. With surprising strength, he grabbed the front of Roderich's purple robes, yanking him roughly down to his height.
"I hate you," he spat venomously. "With every fiber of my being. I regret spending so much time saving a meritless weakling such as yourself. I should have let you die!"
Those words, and the world fell at their feet.
Roderich stumbled back, as if cut with a wound deeper than any sword could ever inflict. He could not say anything, the wind knocked out of him. He spoke one last word to Basch as he mounted his horse and called his troops: "Farewell." Then, like smoke from a candle, he was gone, galloping off in the direction of his own homeland.
When he was out of sight, Basch threw back his head and wailed, a keening, grief-stricken sound like a wounded animal as his legs gave out from beneath him and he collapsed onto the bloody street. "Bastard!" he screamed, unsure if he was angry or upset. His emotions were so muddled he could not decipher them, but he was sure of one thing:
"I will never love again."
He kept that vow he made to smoky skies, building impassable walls around his emotions. He never displayed them anymore, keeping himself constantly neutral and collected. Nobody would see him laugh, nobody would see him cry.
And nobody would hurt him again