[ To that observation he says nothing. Nate's right; just because it was a long time ago doesn't mean he's not still living with it. Doesn't mean it's not still coloring some of the biggest aspects of his life — obviously, or he wouldn't be where he is right now having this conversation. It still hurts enough to dream about, but only when he thinks about it for too long. That's the truth about grieving: you just learn how not to think about it.
His head ducks instead, elbows more backward than akimbo and hair falling into a mess of curls around his cheeks. The quiet lingers for as long as Nate lets it, until that follow-up comment. A breath escapes him like a laugh or a scoff, quiet but audible.
He thinks it's a joke. Maybe it is, but after a beat of consideration a little bit of doubt filters in. He looks over, trying to discern through Nate's expression or his body language how sincere the statement is. How real the concern had been.
He can't tell right off, but either way-- ]
Dude, you saved my life.
[ As though that should be obvious. A note of amusement creeps in despite himself. ]
And besides that, you were-- I don't know.
[ A beat wherein he phrases and rephrases things, tries to decide how best to say what he wants to say. Yeah, talking about his past is hard. Talking about his feelings about that past is hard. Letting people in is hard, but once they're kind of already there...
Some topics are easier to be blunt about. Some of them make it easier for him to feel like he can be straightforward and open. They feel less raw, a little less scary — especially when they're actually kind of a step backward from the level you're already on. It also helps that this isn't directly about himself, but rather commentary on Nate. ]
It's easy to talk about giving a shit. People do that all the time, it's like that whole... thoughts and prayers thing that doesn't actually do anything except make people feel better about themselves. It's hard to actually do something. It takes, like, effort. It takes, like, actually giving a shit. Anybody who doesn't appreciate that probably doesn't need it.
no subject
His head ducks instead, elbows more backward than akimbo and hair falling into a mess of curls around his cheeks. The quiet lingers for as long as Nate lets it, until that follow-up comment. A breath escapes him like a laugh or a scoff, quiet but audible.
He thinks it's a joke. Maybe it is, but after a beat of consideration a little bit of doubt filters in. He looks over, trying to discern through Nate's expression or his body language how sincere the statement is. How real the concern had been.
He can't tell right off, but either way-- ]
Dude, you saved my life.
[ As though that should be obvious. A note of amusement creeps in despite himself. ]
And besides that, you were-- I don't know.
[ A beat wherein he phrases and rephrases things, tries to decide how best to say what he wants to say. Yeah, talking about his past is hard. Talking about his feelings about that past is hard. Letting people in is hard, but once they're kind of already there...
Some topics are easier to be blunt about. Some of them make it easier for him to feel like he can be straightforward and open. They feel less raw, a little less scary — especially when they're actually kind of a step backward from the level you're already on. It also helps that this isn't directly about himself, but rather commentary on Nate. ]
It's easy to talk about giving a shit. People do that all the time, it's like that whole... thoughts and prayers thing that doesn't actually do anything except make people feel better about themselves. It's hard to actually do something. It takes, like, effort. It takes, like, actually giving a shit. Anybody who doesn't appreciate that probably doesn't need it.