Alex was crying so hard Memo thought he might puke. Weeping and trembling and apologizing. It made Memo tear up just via proximity.

There was nothing he could do or say that was going to make it any better. He’d already tried.

He felt Alex untangle, for just a second, before an arm slid around his back and dragged him in; he nuzzled into Alex’s neck, one hand over the back of his head, the other still rubbing gentle circles on the span of his upper back.

“You can’t blame yourself forever, baby,” he said, barely a whisper, “it wasn’t your fault. Ultimately you’re not responsible for other people’s actions.”

But this was a big cross to bear. It would be a lot of effort to drop it. Even moreso to work out the knots it left behind.

Alexei Ivanov

“Honey,” Memo said, feeling the damp of the soil beneath his knees, “you-- you tried.” He pulled back, just a few centimeters, to free his arms and cup Alex’s face, lifting his chin, thumb drawing a crescent through the tear tracks on his cheeks. He felt Alex’s arms looped around his back, a comforting circle of fragility.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Memo tried again, holding Alex’s face. “Someone else made a horrible choice that was out of your control and you tried your best to counteract it. The fact that you tried to do so-- you can’t carry this cross forever, baby. You have to forgive yourself, because everyone else already has.”

He pressed a chaste kiss to the center of Alex’s forehead, then the bridge of his (lovely) nose, then set their temples together.

“You have to forgive yourself.”

Alexei Ivanov

There was a Duskull sitting on Alex’s head, and he hadn’t even noticed.

The first time Memo’d seen him with a ghost, Alex had fainted dead away from fear. Even before, he’d had a distinct feeling that something spooky that way came. Now there was one perched atop his cranium and he hadn’t even noticed, emotions be damned.

Memo looked back into his eyes, smile slow to spread, but warm, full of confidence.

“I believe you can do anything.”

Alexei Ivanov

“Of course, love,” he said, voice gone soft and warm again. “Always.”

He sighed a little as Zelle came to rest atop his own head, rolling his eyes skyward and letting his smile grow. She was incredible. He loved her.

“Do you feel any better?” he asked, rubbing Alex’s shoulders.

Alexei Ivanov

“Good.” He caught a stray tear on the back of his knuckle, brushing it across Alex’s cheek.

Stepping to the side, he slid one arm around Alex’s lower back, cupping his opposite hip and leaning into him.

“Don’t apologize. You’ve been holding that in for a while, it seems.” He frowned inwardly, hating that it sounded like he was lecturing, so he tried again: “You can tell me anything, love. I’ll always listen to you.”

It doesn’t have to get this bad is what he was saying.

Alexei Ivanov