[As Rex watches Invincible struggle and squirm, he can feel a weight settle upon his chest. While his own heart may be buried under layers of insecurity, anger, and selfishness, it is there, ever-present and always beating. The ticking time bomb often struggles with expressing his more vulnerable emotions, which is difficult- Especially when he does actually care so damn much.
Mark is welcome to paw at him if he needs and for however long. For someone who can find his body in space whether he's submerged in a pressurized tank, blindfolded, or skyrocketing through the air, touch is actually an easier mode of communication. It hurts, being so helpless when the person in front of him is in need of real help. But superheroes are good for pulling people out of burning buildings and punching aliens into space.
They are not doctors, therapists, preachers...
It has often made him wonder. He throws himself into danger, follows orders, and does his best not to die. But is he really doing anyone any good? Even as a goddamn Guardian?]
I know I'm probably not who you wanted to see, after... Well.
That.
[And somehow, he never is.
Not the child his parents wanted, certainly, seeing as they had two after him and never bothered to contact him after all those years. Not the hero the Earth needed, just whoever they could find. Lastly, and certainly, he is not the boyfriend who was strong enough to love Samantha Eve Wilkins properly, even though she had been strong enough to save him from himself.
Rex's number rises once more- This time to 710.
How much does he have to suffer, exactly, before he becomes worthy? Of anything. A sliver of affection. Some goddamn respect.]
But I guess I'm all you've got for now, so...
We'll just... Have to make shit work.
[Rex shrugs.
It is a vicious cycle of entrapment. One from which he can never truly be free.
At least, not until the very end- But before that fateful day comes...
He would like his life to feel like it has meaning. Or had.]
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Mark is welcome to paw at him if he needs and for however long. For someone who can find his body in space whether he's submerged in a pressurized tank, blindfolded, or skyrocketing through the air, touch is actually an easier mode of communication. It hurts, being so helpless when the person in front of him is in need of real help. But superheroes are good for pulling people out of burning buildings and punching aliens into space.
They are not doctors, therapists, preachers...
It has often made him wonder. He throws himself into danger, follows orders, and does his best not to die. But is he really doing anyone any good? Even as a goddamn Guardian?]
I know I'm probably not who you wanted to see, after... Well.
That.
[And somehow, he never is.
Not the child his parents wanted, certainly, seeing as they had two after him and never bothered to contact him after all those years. Not the hero the Earth needed, just whoever they could find. Lastly, and certainly, he is not the boyfriend who was strong enough to love Samantha Eve Wilkins properly, even though she had been strong enough to save him from himself.
Rex's number rises once more- This time to 710.
How much does he have to suffer, exactly, before he becomes worthy? Of anything. A sliver of affection. Some goddamn respect.]
But I guess I'm all you've got for now, so...
We'll just... Have to make shit work.
[Rex shrugs.
It is a vicious cycle of entrapment. One from which he can never truly be free.
At least, not until the very end- But before that fateful day comes...
He would like his life to feel like it has meaning. Or had.]