It’s a fair question - more than fair, given the awful request Jon has made of Murmur. He hopes the angel will forgive him someday, but Jon truly believes there is no other way out of this disaster that won’t end in grand-scale bloodshed. It’s not what he wants, but Jon is certain it’s what needs to be done. He doesn’t want to be the reason for any other deaths.
He regrets he won’t have more time with Murmur; the time he was able to spend in the angel’s company was the happiest Jon has felt in years. He regrets he can’t tell Murmur how he truly feels about him, the depth of his love for the angel, because he can’t risk giving the robots any other ammunition against him. He regrets so much, but Jon doesn’t regret the decision he’s made.
Keep the others safe, he thinks, and hopes the angel can hear it. Gently, Jon traces his thumb over Murmur’s gloved hand, over the peaks and valleys of his knuckles, the same way he’d done that night they first kissed. The telltale sting of tears begins to build in his eyes, and Jon blinks hard as he nods his head. A single tear from each eye slides smoothly down each cheek, and he doesn’t bother to brush them away.
“Yes,” Jon says, expression composed into something similarly neutral. “I’m certain.”
no subject
It’s a fair question - more than fair, given the awful request Jon has made of Murmur. He hopes the angel will forgive him someday, but Jon truly believes there is no other way out of this disaster that won’t end in grand-scale bloodshed. It’s not what he wants, but Jon is certain it’s what needs to be done. He doesn’t want to be the reason for any other deaths.
He regrets he won’t have more time with Murmur; the time he was able to spend in the angel’s company was the happiest Jon has felt in years. He regrets he can’t tell Murmur how he truly feels about him, the depth of his love for the angel, because he can’t risk giving the robots any other ammunition against him. He regrets so much, but Jon doesn’t regret the decision he’s made.
Keep the others safe, he thinks, and hopes the angel can hear it. Gently, Jon traces his thumb over Murmur’s gloved hand, over the peaks and valleys of his knuckles, the same way he’d done that night they first kissed. The telltale sting of tears begins to build in his eyes, and Jon blinks hard as he nods his head. A single tear from each eye slides smoothly down each cheek, and he doesn’t bother to brush them away.
“Yes,” Jon says, expression composed into something similarly neutral. “I’m certain.”