My Only Regret [Johann, Nero]

Johann found himself writing a letter at his desk. It had been a decent period of time since Lilith visited his office, catching up on lost time, as well as hearing about the tragedies that had happened in the time that she had been away. She said that she would talk to Nero, but, it had seemed that her talk hadn't gone well. Nero never once made even the remotest attempt to contact him.

So, the elder found himself trying to find a way to bridge the gap himself. He had spent the last ten minutes trying to figure out just how to start the letter. This was such a foreign situation, one that required so much delicacy that he was overthinking every single possible word he sought to pick. But, as if to force a break from the abyss of his thoughts, he heard a knock at his office door, and, tucking everything away and out of sight, Johann straightened himself up, adjusted his tie, before clearing his throat.

"Come in."

The promised day was finally a reality. After careful deliberation and the advice of a select few, he had finally gathered the courage to face the most difficult obstacle in his life - coming face to face with his grandfather, a man who was at once, the subject of his admiration and a symbol of his fear.

Fear that he would never amount to the ideal vision of the family he infinitely admired beyond anything else. Fear that he was simply not good enough to call himself an Arant. Fear, that, despite his best efforts, he would never measure up in Johann Arant's eyes.

Standing inches away from the door, he felt a sort of tension in his chest as he thought about how he ought to proceed. Once he entered that door, there was no turning back. The tale between them would end two ways. They would see eye to eye or they would not. Nothing more, nothing less.

As such, why fear him now? He could never embrace himself or move forward. This, much like it had years prior, bothered him to no end. This chapter needed a conclusion, and so, with a soft exhalation and a determined gaze, magentas full of resolve, he stepped through the forbidden door.

"It's been a while, Grandfather. I hope I'm not impeding on your time. I know the work of an adminstrator can be quite busy."

Johann kept his fingers carefully intertwined, arms rested on his desk as he waited for the visitor to come in. His eyes widened as he saw Nero walk in. His lips parted, expression painted in a mix of shock, surprise, and raw emotion. Every instinct he had as a father and grandfather, despite everything that he had done, ached and cried for Johann to run to Nero and hug him, to hold him, to tell him that he was sorry for everything, to never let him go, even if the world burned around him.

Yet, he refrained. He could tell by the fire in his eyes that Nero wouldn't dare allow something like that. Not now, at least. While that expression of surprise only mildly remained, Johann rapidly gestured Nero forward.

"No, no, come in, come. Please, sit down. There's tea, if you'd like."

Johann quietly gestured toward one of the chairs in his office, before siting back down, looking down at his desk awkwardly. He hadn't known that he was coming in. Had he known, he would have been able to prepare more. Eventually, he finally was able to bring together words to at least attempt this conversation.

"You seem to be well. As little as you may believe me...I am happy to see you, Nero. How are your mother and siblings doing?"

"Thank you."

Nero nodded assent as he approached the desk to sit down across from him. His hawklike gaze had certainly noted the shock in the man's expression, but he couldn't quite pinpoint it. How did he view him now? A symbol of his guilt? Or was there more to it than that?

He didn't want to be so analytical about this, but it meant much more than he imagined, even now. At the very least, he found comfort in the fact that he didn't sense any hostility from the man, let alone an iota of the disdain he used to regard him with in the past.

As he gazed down at his teacup, he took a light sip to still any remaining embers of nervousness as he listened to the man speak. He was polite so far, and... somewhere deep down, that felt nice, but he wouldn't place any hope in him just yet. That would be earned. After all, according to Lilith, Johann genuinely missed him - and his words, so far, seemed to reflect that.

"They've been well, all things considered. Adapting to the City of Lights wasn't easy for any of us, but my siblings have adapted to this place the quickest. Ida misses you... she still talks highly of you, even if..."

He trailed off for a moment, reflecting on his words until he decided there was little use in hiding it.

"Even if... respective differences separated us for a time. Honestly, I am surprised you're happy to see me. When Aunt Lilith... told me about the conversation you two had, I was... shocked. I didn't want to believe it. And now... I'm here. I figured I couldn't avoid you forever, and Lilith and even Emil... wanted me to approach you finally and move past this part of my life - for better or worse."

Even though his heart cried out to hold him, Johann still could only look at Nero and feel nothing but shame. Shame toward how he treated him, shame that this meeting and conversation even needed to happen in the first place. Yet, while his expression showed small signs of that, there still remained aspects of the stoic, traditional man that he prided himself being.

As Nero updated Johann, the elder found himself smiling softly. He was hardly surprised that the siblings would have adapted the quickest, he knew better than most that was something many children did. But, at the mention of Ida, Johann's face turned grim, lowering his head as Nero mentioned that she still spoke of him highly, his voice changing to a low whisper.

"Bless your heart, Ida...but, you should save praise for a man that deserves it."

Then, his head lifted at the mention of another party that had spoken to him, spurring him to act: Emil. Another who had not been spared Johann's thoughts and opinions when he had been Nero's age. For a moment, he was surprised that Emil would have given the boy reason to meet with him, but, Emil had always been a peculiar individual, looks withstanding.

"I..."

He started to speak, before silencing himself. His index quietly drummed against his other hand, his lips parted as he turned to look at his desk. How pathetic a display was this -- all this time he had spent regretting, everything he had every wanted for the last half decade now right in front of him, and now, of all times, he couldn't speak.

'Pull yourself together, Johann. Rip the bandage off. All these years, you waited and prayed that this moment would come. Just...say it, you damnable fool!'

Johann's mouth closed, before he finally took in a shaky breath.

"I'm sorry, Nero."

His head lowered, and, for the first time since the fourth World War that turned his entire world upside down, tears began to freely drip down his aged features. Just those three words, he had longed to say, no matter if his sentiments were never returned. It had eaten away at him for half a decade.

There was so much more he wanted to say, but, at the very least...it was a start.

"...What?"

Nero was rendered speechless the moment he saw his grandfather shed tears. And then an apology - one voiced from the depths of his soul. In truth, Nero didn't exactly know what to say. Nor did he expect ever to hear these words. At that moment, every painful memory hit him like an avalanche. The ridiculing gaze. The disappointment. Each dismissive shake of the head.

This man was nothing like the image of that man. The one that haunted his training. His dreams. His ambition. He possessed a heart, and that man of the past didn't. Naturally, he wholeheartedly knew it would be unreasonable to hold him to that standard - after all, the past was the past. Reflecting on it was always an exercise in futility.

What was he supposed to say? Reflexively, his head went down as he gazed at the table, avoiding the man's gaze. This was a mistake. There was no way he could be sorry. He had nothing to apologize for. As the patriarch of this family, he was the judge, jury, and executioner. What did he need to apologize for? He didn't meet his standard. Nothing more, nothing less...

"Sorry for what? Grandfather... you have nothing to apologize for. Even if you did... why now? It doesn't change the past. You weren't wrong. I didn't meet your standards. Neither as a man or as a Quincy... I don't get it. I... I... don't understand."

Everything was coming rushing forward at once for him. But, despite it all, Johann could hardly blame Nero for his reaction. It was of no surprise that he wouldn't believe him, with how harshly he had scorned the youth back then. But, that resignation, the idea that he had nothing to apologize for, hurt more than anything.

How could he genuinely believe that? Nero had every right to scream at him, curse his name and the name of the Arant, even hide away and never see his face for the rest of his life.

"No. Don't you tell me that. Don't..."

God, it was only now, in the face of it, that he truly realized just how much he had hurt and broken this poor boy. That arrogance and pride nearly tore their family apart, and it had taken him so long to fully realize and regret. Johann lowered his head, removing the tear-stained glasses as he set them aside, bringing his head into his hands. Was it too late? Was there no way to fix what had been broken?

"I'm sorry...for everything. Every crude word I said, every scathing reprimand, every disappointed look I gave you...all of it was undeserved. My standards were cruel and absurd, ones that no man could reach, not even myself, my father, nor his father before him."

He lifted his head to look at Nero, a sense of happiness washing over him as it had when he saw his wonderous performance in the Vandenreich's hosted tournament, learning that he was alive. Nero, beyond everything else, was a burning star that managed to shine, despite everything that he had done.

"I was an arrogant, bastard of a man. Yet, despite how blind I was, you still continued to fight, to practice, you never let it stop you from soaring, and, by God, did you soar. Your...your performance in the tournament, seeing things that I never had seen from you before...I was so, so proud of you, Nero."

Everything was coming out. He didn't even bother trying to think about what he was saying. All he did was speak. But, eventually the elder composed himself, taking in a shaky breath as he wiped his eyes.

"I...I had thought you were dead. It ate away at me for so many years, that I would never get the chance to see you again, to hear your voice again, to say how wrong I had been, and, I...I understand if you still don't want anything to do with me. I don't know what else to do to show you that I'm...I'm not that man anymore. I'm just...so happy to see that you're alive."

"..."

I was so proud of you, Nero.

As though time had froze then and there, Nero's head rose from the desk as he gazed at Johann with eyes full of shock. Nero hadn't even imagined that his grandfather had watched his battle in the Seaside tournament. He wasn't wholly proud of that performance, and that opponent of his was so stubborn that it didn't even feel like a victory.

And yet, his grandfather, the patriarch of the Arant, the trailblazer of this family, offered his genuine praise, told him that he was proud of him. There was no guilt in his words. No sense of trying to earn his approval after so many years. From his expression, to his pleading voice, he told him that he was proud. That he was wrong, that he was foolish. Much like before, though this time to a far greater degree, every pent-up emotion struck him like a thunderbolt.

One tear fell, and then another, and so on, and so forth... The once intense gaze faltered, the expression that painted his face was a mixture of release. A release of anguish. A release of shame. He was acknowledged by the man he admired most. Johann Arant acknowledged him. He had fought tooth and nail for those words for so long, and now, after such a hard fought battle, he could enjoy them. He could sit with this man without fearing his ridicule. What, else, could he do, then, but cry?

"I... I... you... don't have to do anything. I... just... that's all I ever wanted to hear. I can see now... that they were right... you really have changed. You've changed... and I don't know what else to say but... thank you."

Perhaps, had he been younger, he would have not only admonished Nero, but also himself, for shedding such raw emotion, for allowing one's self to be so vulnerable. But, in this moment, of everything he had regretted for so long finally coming out, he couldn't care less. He was a different man, a better man, and there was one that, albeit rather unorthodox, was a better man that he ever had been.

Johann slowly rose from his seat, discarding his cane as it dissipated before it could clatter on the ground. The elder walked around his desk, stepping forward to Nero -- no, his grandson -- his dear, beloved grandson, and knelt down, wrapping his arms in the embrace that the young man would not have felt in years. Yet, in every action, there was a gentleness to it.

A hand slowly lifted, resting on the boy's head, cradling it to his shoulder. This was the man that Nero always wanted to see him as. This was the man who deserved to be called patriarch, to be called grandfather, to be looked up to, both as a leader, as a Quincy, and as a man.

"Oh, my dear boy...you don't need to say anything. I am proud of you. I always will be, no matter what happens, I shall always welcome you with open arms."

But, no man was perfect. He would struggle at times, he knew that. But, even this old dog could learn and become better. Right now, though, all he wanted to do was continue to hold the boy he so heartlessly shunned so long ago, and never let him go again. No matter if the world burned around them, he would hold him, and he would protect him, as any father and grandfather would.

Even now, Nero didn't know what to say. The torrent of emotion hit him like a tidal wave. There was joy. There was anguish released into the wind, never to be recalled again. The warm embrace and the words that exited his beloved elder's lips felt so surreal right now.

Compared to the harsh comments of the past, these were heaven-sent. It helped to permanently wash away all the doubt that had built up over so many years. Without any falsity to his words, the patriarch of the Arant - no, his dear grandfather, told him he would always be proud of him.

No matter what other happiness transpired in his life, he would forever and always fondly reflect on this one. This was everything he ever wanted, everything he wanted to hear. To be accepted and loved, to feel like his existence had a meaning after all these years. And so, he continued to tremble and cry in his arms, holding him tightly. Even though this felt so dreamlike, it was undoubtedly real. And he hardly wanted this moment to vanish.

"If... that's the case... I can finally say something else now, something I was always afraid to say before..."

Sniffling softly, he fought back his tears long enough to say these four words.

"I love you, Grandfather."