Yeah, complicated. Look, I need to know what else he said. What he told you.
[If he seems anxious, fraught with tension, it's because he is. Prying at something he doesn't want to have the answers to. He's not Jay. He doesn't want answers, most of the time. He doesn't need to know. He just needs to stop things before they get any worse.]
[It's always too late for that. Always too fucking late.]
[Because it was trying to make a point and in typical Ren fashion, it was difficult for her to stay silent with that verbal onslaught against someone she cares about.]
About how something in you killed people-friends.
[And it doesn't sound real as it comes out of her mouth and it's terrible confession to voice after proclaiming her desire to be friends too, but-
She clutches fabric on her pants, twists her fingers into it.]
About the bad thing inside your heart. That thing is-
[He almost laughs, almost, because that sounds just - that sounds a little too charitable of the thing, to have put it that way. Maybe it was talking about the other him, the him that likes running around with a mask on at night, or maybe it was talking about something else, he doesn't - ]
[Maybe she's trying to make it sound nicer than it was.]
I did that. I did, it wasn't something else, it was - it was me. [The words are high and uncontrolled, the sound of frozen air in the middle of an abandoned, burnt-out hospital while the camera rolled and he tried not to scream.]
[She knows. No matter how hard it is to wrap her mind around, it's a revelation she won't forget. And now he knows she's aware, is proclaiming it again, not so different from the shadow spewing that information to begin with.
And no matter how many times he says it was him-
It doesn't feel sound like him at all. Not the Tim she's come to adore. And someone who lives with the guilt, self-loathing, and pain his shadow was eager to talk about-
He can't be bad.
But if it was him, really and truly him, like he's claiming then-]
Because that's what I am. That's the person that I - I didn't want to, but I was just -
[I'll kill you!]
[And he had, hadn't he? It had been a slip, a misplaced hand, a fall, a crash. He'd taken no time whatsoever to mourn the nameless soul he'd sent plunging to their death, had only dug in through their pockets at once, choking down a precious white capsule, before deciding to unmask them, once and for all.]
[Hadn't known he wasn't dead yet. Hadn't known, hadn't cared, had still been full of the same furious adrenaline that spurred him to charge the bastard with a fucking wrench.]
Gets the complete and utter desperation that comes from not being in control, even if you're the one moving your hands and legs from one destination to the next. He didn't want to and she believes him. Despite his insistence that it's who he is, despite his shadow's cruel words that follow the same train of thought, she knows-]
You're more than that.
[Their deaths aren't insignificant. It's impossible to sweep that problem under the rug, but Tim's the one that lives with it-every single day, he didn't want to.]
You're more than that mean Tim.
[She twists and twists the fabric-]
And you're more than the nice one too.
[And she'll never truly know him. He's got a million secrets locked away and this feels like she's only pecking at the surface. There are too many things he'll probably never tell her, but-]
You're Tim. That's what you are and-
[It's something she can't stop repeating, no matter how meaningless it is to him.]
[She can say that, because she hasn't seen him at his lowest points - sniffling, snot and tears leaving a shiny trail on the back of his shirtsleeve, or panting, almost wheezing, soaked with the sticky dregs of another man's blood because it wasn't enough to stab him in the goddamn throat, was it, no, he had to start beating the hell out of him as he gagged on the crimson fountaining out of him, or spitting chunks of vomit onto an abandoned school floor.]
[She can say that he's got a nice heart, because she's only seen those parts of him.]
I'm not. I'm really, really not.
[His throat feels stripped, scraped dry from shouts and sobs in equal measure, and all he's doing is screaming up against a brick wall that refuses to take any of what he's saying at face value, because it doesn't suit her fucking idea of what he's supposed to be, or what she thinks he is, or what he's convinced her that he is.]
[There's a heaviness that weighs down her own heart when she remembers that there's a reason the light Tim stayed with her instead of going after him. There's a reason it gave up, knowing full well these positive associations would hit the same brick wall. Knowing that there's some good inside him and he bitterly refuses to accept any of it.
And she was probably never the person that could help him see it. Not when it's all noise and he's claiming that kind person isn't real even though-]
You held my hand. You talk to me and say 'hey, kiddo' and did all those fun things with me.
[That person is real-she's seen it. And if he could understand how meaningful his impact was on her, that might change something. It's hard though, when he's so eager to pull out all the wrongs he's done, without seeing all the rights.]
[The words were a reassurance, once. A promise that he wouldn't say anything to anyone, that your plan would be safe from prying eyes and leverage and people who want to put a stop to it.]
[They were accusations, more often than not. A sick feeling in his guts because Jay never looked at him like he trusted him, of course he wouldn't, because the pace and weight of those indictments only increased over time and they became ever more potent, and ever more true the longer they festered.]
If every single moment he spent with her was a lie.
If all the times he held her shaking hand, sat down and taught her how to read notes, teaching her to be confident that she could do it, spent those quiet moments at night talking about nothing because it made her happy and drowsy and put her mind in a good place before bed was a lie-
If all the good deeds he's done, spending story after story for the comfort of others, was a lie-
If he really is a liar, then he's only lying to himself, but that's how he wants to hide. Taako does the same, behind different words and for other reasons. She does it sometimes too, resorting to I'm okay until people stop questioning her.
And instead of saying anything, she tries to close the distance between them, taking tiny, slow steps forward and reaching out. Not that he'll let her-it's doubtful he'll ever let her do it again, which is the only thought that keeps her from trying to grasp him. She extends her hand partway, so that her fingers graze the back of his hand, if she even gets that close.]
[He's just left staring at her, waiting for her to say something, waiting for her to decide that he's right. But of course, she doesn't. Of course, she just moves forward, like if she shuts him up, it will make everything that he's said and done less true, if she doesn't listen for it.]
[He doesn't move. Doesn't react. Just looks at her, blinking the stiff-lashed cling of drying wetness that still crusts his eyes and cheeks.]
You're really not going to listen or care. No matter what I say. Are you?
[She stood there when the shadow talked and talked and used that information now, when she listened to Tim talk. It's not about listening-she did. It's not about caring-she does. It's about the words from a broken person not mixing with what she's perceived with her own two eyes over the year. It's about feeling protective towards someone she loves to the point she wants stop them from hurting himself, even if it's with words, because he would do the same for her.
Because she wants to be with him and that urge has never waned.
He's not moving or lurching away from her, so she doesn't push her luck. Instead of gripping his hand, she just sorta keeps running her fingers across the back of it, like she's trying to pet a cat. Horrible. But at least he knows she's there. Which probably isn't comforting in the slightest.]
For someone like me-it doesn't change anything. I want to be with you.
[He doesn't have words to make it clearer to her. That knowing him is a death warrant in and of itself, that he's been responsible for at least a handful of deaths and an untold number of theoretical ruined lives, every person that might have ever stumbled across those videos and bothered to watch a few of them, to say nothing of the viewers who devoted themselves to Jay's mysteries, who followed his progress relentlessly, who offered help in breaking codes and advice and questions, simple questions like why don't you take anyone with you?]
[He's tired. Crying, as it happens, is exhausting. He's used to pushing through it, when he has to. He usually has to.]
[She's just touching his hand, like that'll make him less averse to any part of this conversation.]
[It's hard to express without the full details, but that's not something that needs to be said right now. It's because I didn't want to is a powerful message to her. He did it. It happened. It was terrible and bad and he regrets it. Still doesn't quite believe it was him fully behind the wheel of that action, but that's a problem to tackle another day. It eats at him like this, forcing him into isolation that he wants, but doesn't deserve.
She's seen far worse people receive redemption. Saw a terrifying man who tried to help, tried to kill momentarily regret his actions and even he didn't need to spend eternity by himself.
He never showed her a tenth as much kindness as Tim has. He doesn't deserve to live with this much fear.]
When you said 'I didn't want to'-I understand things like that. When you're very scared, you can do scary things you don't want to do.
[Her hand hasn't stopped that rhythmic movement, almost like it's for her sake more than his at this point.]
It doesn't change anything because I understand. That's all.
[It certainly is. He wants to twitch away, fold his arms across his chest, but he's still poised on the precipice of - something. If he snatches his hand away, that might feel too much like slamming a door shut.]
[Is the understanding that he can't afford to do that an excuse, a justification? Or does it make a bitter amount of sense, considering the circumstances?]
I've done worse. Worse than whatever he said. I've done it to a lot of people, and I keep doing it, and I can't - [A pained swallow, a flick of his eyes, away from her.]
[But it's not an attempt that needs to be wasted on her. Whatever accidental pain he might inflict on her won't last, when she's going to die anyway. And that's the big if-she doesn't think it would happen to begin with. She never had an inkling that it could, until the shadow appeared. Until he kept pulling his hand away and giving her a clear view of his back instead of his face.
He turned away from her again, but she's not looking at him either, concentrating on all his fingers instead.]
I want to try to make things 'better' for you too.
[Whatever worse is, she has no idea. Doesn't want to know. And if there ever comes a time he looks at her with a scary expression, one she knows to look out for, she'll run far, far away until he feels better.]
If it gets scary, I'll hide. And if you get scared, I'll hide you.
I am the scary thing. Do you - get that? It doesn't matter how nice it seems like I am.
[He doesn't want to have to do this, to offer some sort of objective proof that he's exactly that kind of person, that he's someone that should be feared. If he'd had the strength to walk away, right then and there, maybe she would've actually believed him.]
[Too late. Always too little, too late.]
[He flinches slightly, his breath jacking in his throat.]
She pulls her hand back, letting it rest against her side. He asked, she'll oblige, because it doesn't seem like he's going to run away from her. And even if he did, well-
It's not like she could stop him. But they're talking in circles, two people who aren't seeing the entire picture and who don't want to believe what the other person is saying. I am the scary thing and-
Maybe one day she'll see it. She hopes she doesn't, doubts it'll occur in her vicinity, because he tries so hard to protect her despite not being nice.
There's no point in saying you're not scary and you're not mean, so she doesn't. No protest is going to change his mind-not right now and she doesn't need to fill the silence with anything else. It can stay like this and she's going to stand beside him, for as long as he'll let her. Takes the opportunity to doodle some nonsensical spirals in the sand with her big toe.
At the end of the day, she can't do anything except be the companion he never wanted, but she's sure here.]
[Leaking out onto everyone and everything. Tainting them, bit by bit. And by the time they realize it, they've built up a resilience to it, and it doesn't seem so bad. It wouldn't, when you've been steeped in toxicity for that long.]
I can't do this right now. I can't - not after everything. I can't make any of what he said better, and I can't make you believe that he was right. If he didn't hurt you - [He looks away, blows out a breath, shuts his eyes against the sight of the sand.]
Fine. Good. I'm glad he didn't.
But he wasn't wrong. And you can't just ignore that forever, no matter how much you might just want to, because it's easier.
[He's not wrong and deep down, she knows that. Pushing problems aside for another day is her typical MO and trotting down the same old paths, verbal or otherwise, have never steered her wrong. If they're safe once, they're safe again, but it's not working with Tim.
And his words shake her a bit-enough to finally pull her attention away from the spirals in the sand and look at him and-
She's assumed many things. That he's hard on himself, that something in him might be bad, but it's not really him, that all his self-loathing and self-depreciation is what's forcing that wall between them after all these months where she felt like it might be crumbling down a bit. When their similarities used to intertwine and she felt comfortable simply being in his presence because it was never judgmental, never antagonistic, and it's still not-he's stating facts, trying to get her to see something she doesn't want to.
That silence isn't a trap anymore-it's a safety net and all she does is stare at him. Because she might be casting this away , but he's ignoring her too and-]
You can't hear my words either. You couldn't hear that other Tim.
[It's Some Kind of acknowledgement. Better than the time she tried to choke Seto to be heard, in any case. And maybe he doesn't feel like he's being heard and if she's the one causing that, then-]
I can be brave and try-
[To hear him. To listen. To understand what he's saying, knowing full well he's kinder than he gives himself credit for. That he's better, stronger, braver than he'll ever see.]
[He never knows quite what she means, when she says that. Listening to hearts. Is it literal? Does she, literally, listen to people's hearts? Can she tell if he's lying before he's...]
[Doesn't make any sense. No one would be able to lie to her if that were the case. Maybe it's just a figure of speech. Maybe he's just not listening, which is just great, cool, that would make them two idiots who aren't listening to each other, but he doesn't know how to lay this out in a way that makes sense and in a way that she can accept. Maybe she just won't accept it. Not unless he makes her.]
[That makes her head perk up in a confused, almost questioning way, as if this is the first time anyone's really inquired about what she means. She's surprised, in particular, that he doesn't.
She places a hand over her heart, pats her chest in a slow, beating motion, and drops it back down when that does literally nothing to help.]
It's not thump, thump. It's not like that.
[But it's few and far between with the other islanders. Sometimes she can feel, sometimes she spends all her energy trying to reach, reach out to no avail.]
It's when you listen and hear things people don't say. You can feel it. You 'get it.'
[But if she's being honest, she likes to hear the words. In situations that feel less dire and have more breathing room, she would rather hear someone talk.]
[Has she...always been able to do this? Read people? He frowns, squinting at her for the first time.]
[All this time, he figured it was just a figure of speech. Chalked it up to sure, it's something a kid would say. It's a metaphor, except that it's really not - it wouldn't make any sense for that to be the case, would it? She doesn't understand a good chunk of the metaphors he says, offhand, didn't even recognize a cigarette, or a firework.]
[Why in god's name didn't he question this sooner?]
Have you always been able to just...hear people? Without them actually saying anything?
[What the heck is a purview, Tim? She has a cat, if he needs some purring to look at, but this doesn't seem like the appropriate time to bring that up. But he asks another question and she really-
Has no idea. And again, she kind of looks lost. Because have you always is beyond what her memory can recall and he's the first person to somewhat deny having the ability. That's a double whammy. Seto could do it-she assumed most people could. Especially him because he grew up like she did.
So if he doesn't get it, then why did they keep him there? Why was he being watched and monitored and-]
I don't know. The paper would say that kind of thing.
[Paper, like a report? He resists the urge to knead at his brow, to pinch at the bridge of his nose. This just feels like a pretty fucking pertinent thing to know, and now he's only just now pursuing it, and - god. God.]
[He really is a goddamned moron. Exactly as stupid as he always figured he was.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[If he seems anxious, fraught with tension, it's because he is. Prying at something he doesn't want to have the answers to. He's not Jay. He doesn't want answers, most of the time. He doesn't need to know. He just needs to stop things before they get any worse.]
[It's always too late for that. Always too fucking late.]
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[Because it was trying to make a point and in typical Ren fashion, it was difficult for her to stay silent with that verbal onslaught against someone she cares about.]
About how something in you killed people-friends.
[And it doesn't sound real as it comes out of her mouth and it's terrible confession to voice after proclaiming her desire to be friends too, but-
She clutches fabric on her pants, twists her fingers into it.]
About the bad thing inside your heart. That thing is-
[Scary, but she's not afraid of Tim.]
He said that stuff until I ran away.
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[He almost laughs, almost, because that sounds just - that sounds a little too charitable of the thing, to have put it that way. Maybe it was talking about the other him, the him that likes running around with a mask on at night, or maybe it was talking about something else, he doesn't - ]
[Maybe she's trying to make it sound nicer than it was.]
I did that. I did, it wasn't something else, it was - it was me. [The words are high and uncontrolled, the sound of frozen air in the middle of an abandoned, burnt-out hospital while the camera rolled and he tried not to scream.]
Do you get that? I killed people.
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And no matter how many times he says it was him-
It doesn't feel sound like him at all. Not the Tim she's come to adore. And someone who lives with the guilt, self-loathing, and pain his shadow was eager to talk about-
He can't be bad.
But if it was him, really and truly him, like he's claiming then-]
Why?
no subject
[I'll kill you!]
[And he had, hadn't he? It had been a slip, a misplaced hand, a fall, a crash. He'd taken no time whatsoever to mourn the nameless soul he'd sent plunging to their death, had only dug in through their pockets at once, choking down a precious white capsule, before deciding to unmask them, once and for all.]
[Hadn't known he wasn't dead yet. Hadn't known, hadn't cared, had still been full of the same furious adrenaline that spurred him to charge the bastard with a fucking wrench.]
[Not the case with Alex.]
That's what I am.
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Gets the complete and utter desperation that comes from not being in control, even if you're the one moving your hands and legs from one destination to the next. He didn't want to and she believes him. Despite his insistence that it's who he is, despite his shadow's cruel words that follow the same train of thought, she knows-]
You're more than that.
[Their deaths aren't insignificant. It's impossible to sweep that problem under the rug, but Tim's the one that lives with it-every single day, he didn't want to.]
You're more than that mean Tim.
[She twists and twists the fabric-]
And you're more than the nice one too.
[And she'll never truly know him. He's got a million secrets locked away and this feels like she's only pecking at the surface. There are too many things he'll probably never tell her, but-]
You're Tim. That's what you are and-
[It's something she can't stop repeating, no matter how meaningless it is to him.]
Your heart isn't bad.
no subject
[She can say that he's got a nice heart, because she's only seen those parts of him.]
I'm not. I'm really, really not.
[His throat feels stripped, scraped dry from shouts and sobs in equal measure, and all he's doing is screaming up against a brick wall that refuses to take any of what he's saying at face value, because it doesn't suit her fucking idea of what he's supposed to be, or what she thinks he is, or what he's convinced her that he is.]
[He's not.]
[He never was.]
The person you think I am isn't real.
no subject
And she was probably never the person that could help him see it. Not when it's all noise and he's claiming that kind person isn't real even though-]
You held my hand. You talk to me and say 'hey, kiddo' and did all those fun things with me.
[That person is real-she's seen it. And if he could understand how meaningful his impact was on her, that might change something. It's hard though, when he's so eager to pull out all the wrongs he's done, without seeing all the rights.]
That's a part of 'Tim' too.
no subject
[He is a liar.]
[The words were a reassurance, once. A promise that he wouldn't say anything to anyone, that your plan would be safe from prying eyes and leverage and people who want to put a stop to it.]
[They were accusations, more often than not. A sick feeling in his guts because Jay never looked at him like he trusted him, of course he wouldn't, because the pace and weight of those indictments only increased over time and they became ever more potent, and ever more true the longer they festered.]
[So what are they now? A sanctuary? A shield?]
[Familiar ground.]
no subject
If every single moment he spent with her was a lie.
If all the times he held her shaking hand, sat down and taught her how to read notes, teaching her to be confident that she could do it, spent those quiet moments at night talking about nothing because it made her happy and drowsy and put her mind in a good place before bed was a lie-
If all the good deeds he's done, spending story after story for the comfort of others, was a lie-
If he really is a liar, then he's only lying to himself, but that's how he wants to hide. Taako does the same, behind different words and for other reasons. She does it sometimes too, resorting to I'm okay until people stop questioning her.
And instead of saying anything, she tries to close the distance between them, taking tiny, slow steps forward and reaching out. Not that he'll let her-it's doubtful he'll ever let her do it again, which is the only thought that keeps her from trying to grasp him. She extends her hand partway, so that her fingers graze the back of his hand, if she even gets that close.]
no subject
[He's just left staring at her, waiting for her to say something, waiting for her to decide that he's right. But of course, she doesn't. Of course, she just moves forward, like if she shuts him up, it will make everything that he's said and done less true, if she doesn't listen for it.]
[He doesn't move. Doesn't react. Just looks at her, blinking the stiff-lashed cling of drying wetness that still crusts his eyes and cheeks.]
You're really not going to listen or care. No matter what I say. Are you?
no subject
[She stood there when the shadow talked and talked and used that information now, when she listened to Tim talk. It's not about listening-she did. It's not about caring-she does. It's about the words from a broken person not mixing with what she's perceived with her own two eyes over the year. It's about feeling protective towards someone she loves to the point she wants stop them from hurting himself, even if it's with words, because he would do the same for her.
Because she wants to be with him and that urge has never waned.
He's not moving or lurching away from her, so she doesn't push her luck. Instead of gripping his hand, she just sorta keeps running her fingers across the back of it, like she's trying to pet a cat. Horrible. But at least he knows she's there. Which probably isn't comforting in the slightest.]
For someone like me-it doesn't change anything. I want to be with you.
no subject
[He doesn't have words to make it clearer to her. That knowing him is a death warrant in and of itself, that he's been responsible for at least a handful of deaths and an untold number of theoretical ruined lives, every person that might have ever stumbled across those videos and bothered to watch a few of them, to say nothing of the viewers who devoted themselves to Jay's mysteries, who followed his progress relentlessly, who offered help in breaking codes and advice and questions, simple questions like why don't you take anyone with you?]
[He's tired. Crying, as it happens, is exhausting. He's used to pushing through it, when he has to. He usually has to.]
[She's just touching his hand, like that'll make him less averse to any part of this conversation.]
Why doesn't it change anything.
no subject
She's seen far worse people receive redemption. Saw a terrifying man who tried to help, tried to kill momentarily regret his actions and even he didn't need to spend eternity by himself.
He never showed her a tenth as much kindness as Tim has. He doesn't deserve to live with this much fear.]
When you said 'I didn't want to'-I understand things like that. When you're very scared, you can do scary things you don't want to do.
[Her hand hasn't stopped that rhythmic movement, almost like it's for her sake more than his at this point.]
It doesn't change anything because I understand. That's all.
no subject
[Is the understanding that he can't afford to do that an excuse, a justification? Or does it make a bitter amount of sense, considering the circumstances?]
I've done worse. Worse than whatever he said. I've done it to a lot of people, and I keep doing it, and I can't - [A pained swallow, a flick of his eyes, away from her.]
I can't make any of it better.
no subject
[But it's not an attempt that needs to be wasted on her. Whatever accidental pain he might inflict on her won't last, when she's going to die anyway. And that's the big if-she doesn't think it would happen to begin with. She never had an inkling that it could, until the shadow appeared. Until he kept pulling his hand away and giving her a clear view of his back instead of his face.
He turned away from her again, but she's not looking at him either, concentrating on all his fingers instead.]
I want to try to make things 'better' for you too.
[Whatever worse is, she has no idea. Doesn't want to know. And if there ever comes a time he looks at her with a scary expression, one she knows to look out for, she'll run far, far away until he feels better.]
If it gets scary, I'll hide. And if you get scared, I'll hide you.
no subject
[He doesn't want to have to do this, to offer some sort of objective proof that he's exactly that kind of person, that he's someone that should be feared. If he'd had the strength to walk away, right then and there, maybe she would've actually believed him.]
[Too late. Always too little, too late.]
[He flinches slightly, his breath jacking in his throat.]
Can you - stop that, actually?
no subject
[Not. He keeps saying that and-
She pulls her hand back, letting it rest against her side. He asked, she'll oblige, because it doesn't seem like he's going to run away from her. And even if he did, well-
It's not like she could stop him. But they're talking in circles, two people who aren't seeing the entire picture and who don't want to believe what the other person is saying. I am the scary thing and-
Maybe one day she'll see it. She hopes she doesn't, doubts it'll occur in her vicinity, because he tries so hard to protect her despite not being nice.
There's no point in saying you're not scary and you're not mean, so she doesn't. No protest is going to change his mind-not right now and she doesn't need to fill the silence with anything else. It can stay like this and she's going to stand beside him, for as long as he'll let her. Takes the opportunity to doodle some nonsensical spirals in the sand with her big toe.
At the end of the day, she can't do anything except be the companion he never wanted, but she's sure here.]
no subject
[Leaking out onto everyone and everything. Tainting them, bit by bit. And by the time they realize it, they've built up a resilience to it, and it doesn't seem so bad. It wouldn't, when you've been steeped in toxicity for that long.]
I can't do this right now. I can't - not after everything. I can't make any of what he said better, and I can't make you believe that he was right. If he didn't hurt you - [He looks away, blows out a breath, shuts his eyes against the sight of the sand.]
Fine. Good. I'm glad he didn't.
But he wasn't wrong. And you can't just ignore that forever, no matter how much you might just want to, because it's easier.
no subject
And his words shake her a bit-enough to finally pull her attention away from the spirals in the sand and look at him and-
She's assumed many things. That he's hard on himself, that something in him might be bad, but it's not really him, that all his self-loathing and self-depreciation is what's forcing that wall between them after all these months where she felt like it might be crumbling down a bit. When their similarities used to intertwine and she felt comfortable simply being in his presence because it was never judgmental, never antagonistic, and it's still not-he's stating facts, trying to get her to see something she doesn't want to.
That silence isn't a trap anymore-it's a safety net and all she does is stare at him. Because she might be casting this away , but he's ignoring her too and-]
You can't hear my words either. You couldn't hear that other Tim.
[It's Some Kind of acknowledgement. Better than the time she tried to choke Seto to be heard, in any case. And maybe he doesn't feel like he's being heard and if she's the one causing that, then-]
I can be brave and try-
[To hear him. To listen. To understand what he's saying, knowing full well he's kinder than he gives himself credit for. That he's better, stronger, braver than he'll ever see.]
If you try to listen to my heart too.
no subject
[He never knows quite what she means, when she says that. Listening to hearts. Is it literal? Does she, literally, listen to people's hearts? Can she tell if he's lying before he's...]
[Doesn't make any sense. No one would be able to lie to her if that were the case. Maybe it's just a figure of speech. Maybe he's just not listening, which is just great, cool, that would make them two idiots who aren't listening to each other, but he doesn't know how to lay this out in a way that makes sense and in a way that she can accept. Maybe she just won't accept it. Not unless he makes her.]
[Is he even that kind of person anymore?]
I don't know what that means.
no subject
She places a hand over her heart, pats her chest in a slow, beating motion, and drops it back down when that does literally nothing to help.]
It's not thump, thump. It's not like that.
[But it's few and far between with the other islanders. Sometimes she can feel, sometimes she spends all her energy trying to reach, reach out to no avail.]
It's when you listen and hear things people don't say. You can feel it. You 'get it.'
[But if she's being honest, she likes to hear the words. In situations that feel less dire and have more breathing room, she would rather hear someone talk.]
You don't have to do anything.
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[Has she...always been able to do this? Read people? He frowns, squinting at her for the first time.]
[All this time, he figured it was just a figure of speech. Chalked it up to sure, it's something a kid would say. It's a metaphor, except that it's really not - it wouldn't make any sense for that to be the case, would it? She doesn't understand a good chunk of the metaphors he says, offhand, didn't even recognize a cigarette, or a firework.]
[Why in god's name didn't he question this sooner?]
Have you always been able to just...hear people? Without them actually saying anything?
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Has no idea. And again, she kind of looks lost. Because have you always is beyond what her memory can recall and he's the first person to somewhat deny having the ability. That's a double whammy. Seto could do it-she assumed most people could. Especially him because he grew up like she did.
So if he doesn't get it, then why did they keep him there? Why was he being watched and monitored and-]
I don't know. The paper would say that kind of thing.
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[Paper, like a report? He resists the urge to knead at his brow, to pinch at the bridge of his nose. This just feels like a pretty fucking pertinent thing to know, and now he's only just now pursuing it, and - god. God.]
[He really is a goddamned moron. Exactly as stupid as he always figured he was.]
What are you talking about?
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