Angst

"You are no better than me!"

This is an alternate universe, where Vincent had become a criminal instead of a therapist, and Varith was in the guardsmen for almost all of his career. Do not get this AU mixed with the canon universe, please and thank you.

"Could you stop?" Varith asked Vincent, monotonously. He flicked away the thrown towel, as it approached his face.

"Stop, what exactly? If this is about my choice of job, then I-" He was cut off rudely.

"Yes! It's not a job, Vincent, you need to stop. You're getting out of hand." Varith stood in his rant, standing a full head and a half above Vincent.

"It's my JOB! You cannot control me, for you are no better than me!" Vincent snapped back at him, posture tense. At this, Varith paused, anger flashing across his eyes.

"I was better than you, but you lowered me to your standards! You are so much worse than I," Varith had turned away from him, walking away.

"You don't get the choice to walk away, you hear?" Vincent grabbed him and turned him around with adrenaline rushing through his veins. "You get to listen to me and my views this time, you got that?" Varith was turned to him, glaring down and trying to intimidate his way out of the conversation.

"Vinc-, no. Thief, leave me be, you have no right to ask my time, let alone direct me around..." Varith glared down his nose defiantly at Vincent.

"Is that it? You speak to me as if we are friends one moment, then curse my very existence the next?" Vincent snarled up at him, challenging him to speak a word of curse at him.

"No, I treat you no different than I would a man being led to the gallows for crimes that he has committed." Varith pulled away, trying to get out of Vincent's grip.

"Oh? So you sleep and cook and laugh with the men being led there? You joke about their misfortunes with them?" Vincent had stepped forward, smashing a finger on his free hand against Varith's chest, pushing him backwards.

"I do no such things with the likes of you!" Varith had finally snapped, pushing Vincent back and stepping towards him. "I did that all to please the Arsonist that blew up an orphanage!" He stepped forward, making Vincent take a step back.

"Varith, how the mighty have fallen," He puffed up angrily, "You lowered yourself. You could have taken me to prison, you could have left me to fight to death in the arena, you could have killed me! Yet you, a trained guardsmen that could incapacitate me at the flick of your wrist, did not even give a hint that you did not want me!" Vincent was screaming now, yelling all the shaming words right back at Varith.

"Thieves don't get to choose when they are hurt, and when they are not hurt, do they?" With that, Varith flicked his arm back, making Vincent cry out.

"Yo-...You bastard...." Vincent clutched at his now sprained wrist, setting it straight as quick as he could. "I could never sink to the level that you just did..."

Varith watched as he walked out, glaring and saying the last words of the argument

"You've burned, killed, and slaughtered, no one could get worse than that..." Varith had brutally exposed the truth, making Vincent wince, and Varith turn cold with realization. "Vincent, wait, I didn't mean-" A slammed door was what greeted Varith's pained and slightly horrified face.

What Varith didn't see was the constant tears sliding down Vincent's face, and the fact that it pooled on Varith's borrowed shirt.