#'he aint built for both' OIJAOWJOAJFK giving ur muse bountiful new experiences every day <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[dnangelic]

he can't help the way his feelings uncomfortably stir : he doesn't thank the other or insist any further , ( because adam is , after all , an adult , ) but the word "worth" still pricks him in a way that gave him the same itching , irritated lump as the word "deserve" did . he wants to resist , decline , insist : but you do . no matter how meek and timid the niwa perpetually seemed , weren't feelings like those still his own ? to dispense and allot wherever , to whomever he liked . had he the words to express any of this , then maybe he would have balled up his fists a little at his side and stood his ground until adam accepted it .

instead , he stays as still as he can and listens , unable to help the way his eyes glide shy away from the other's --- like a nervous animal hoping not to get eaten , a dog with another's teeth bared close , far too close to its nose .

delusions ... right . what confrontation he's avoided and tried to muster up all sorts of excuses for , he suddenly feels chided over . ' kind of like --- ' he hesitates just on the brink ; feels his thoughts lurch at the thin , sliced edge of the conversation , a chasm that rips itself open right in front of him and whose deep , open plummet makes his heart sink and thud in his chest . ( adam would either immediately hate him for this , or end up shocked at the sheer hidden guts and gal it took for it . maybe even both . ) nevertheless , daisuke verbally leaps : ' like the way you kind of ... talk like you're all bad , even though you really aren't ? '

it's not the place for comparison , he knows --- but he can't help the times he had wondered whether or not there would ever be any sort of light for him . what was good , what was evil ... ? did a drop of poison always pollute the entire well ? did a weed in a field render it foul and infertile ? cherubs were said to only know peace and wear smiles ; in its shadows , the devil and all its stormy leers and grim brooding could be concluded a devil for as long as these things remained a truth .

even thieves had their reasons . their little white lies ; their rampant delusions . he's never known whether or not good intentions could make up for cardinal sins , but if he could have told adam the truth , here and now , what would the other have said , then ? would he have lent mercy , even more sympathy and encouragement , no matter how rough and crass ; no matter how bitter and angry , to the sorry kid --- criminal --- raised from birth like all of his ancestors to fall out from innocence and to endlessly steal ? his family might have been the entire reason for his woes , beginning with an ancestor of hundreds , maybe thousands of years ago , a curse --- but , after so much time , he still cared for everyone . his mother , his grandfather , a father he barely felt he knew ; the artworks he had laid his hands on , even his other self .

' i just ... ' if anything , he wished his mother really was here right now . to hear what she might say to an ordinary person when all the other times he had tried to declare that he was going to give up thieving , he had been met with nothing but a chorus of pleads and tears and demands and declines . ' ... they're the only ones who accept me , too . they know --- parts of me that no one else knows about . that i'm too scared to show to strangers or ... even my friends . ' his flush reddens a little , even more . his voice shrinks and stays infinitesimally small . ' i just don't want people to hate me . what if someone points and --- and calls me a freak or a monster ? what if it's the truth and everyone's right ? what if i can't change or --- or fix it ? '

a beat . ' i mean , whether or not it's my fault , isn't there something still wrong with me ? ' a breath . ' i'm so stupid and i keep thinking --- wondering , maybe i'm not any good for any of it . not my family or strangers or ... o-or anybody . ' and just like that , lifting an arm to rub a sleeve across his dry lips and hide away his mouth for however briefly , he apologizes again . ' sorry . i didn't --- i didn't mean to ... i just don't know what i'm doing . it feels like everyone knows what they want in life and how to talk and ... be normal , but me . and i don't know how to fix it . i never know just ... what's missing . '

Rigidly, Adam stirs in his seat, eyes flicking sideways then back at the kid in an instant.

"Don't thank me. I'm not doin' somethin' worth bein' thanked for." How horrifying it is to see the worst of one's past in another's present. Grandfather. Wounds sealed and locked somewhere in the depths of Adam's psyche - along with real, physical marks buried under makeup, clothing and pretenses of their disappearance - suddenly all feel so very fresh and new. His expression shifts to a grimace as he re-manages his heart - which's skipping beats now signify the horror of remembrance - and quickly reverts to his frown, albeit this time perhaps a little softer in its falling than he would like.

Empathy fucking sucks. He likes to think he has none. He has plenty. He likes to think he can manage that plenty. He often can. He likes to think that's the case now. It's not. He knows better than to jump to a personal conclusion about the kid's grandfather, but the very implication that he's mean connects Adam to the teenager in a way he despises.

Which is perhaps why he responds to the latter bit of his dialogue first, the good lies shtick. It happens to be so far removed from who he is - someone with an almost compulsive honesty about him unless his more complex feelings are coming into play - that he can easily use his response as a distraction.

"But, yeah - there are definitely good lies." He admits. "Little white lies 'r lies ta save people 'r whatever else kinda lie brings more good than bad, but-" a small sigh, fingers drumming up to press against the wall. "They come at the risk of formin' delusions no matter how good of a person the liar might be, so ya oughtta be careful with those even more than ya oughtta be with so-called 'bad lies'." His fingers halt their motion, eyes more intent on the kid than they initially were, perhaps to hammer home his upcoming point. "Cuz delusion's a dangerous damn thing. If ya really wanna do yourself or the world or whoever else some good, you gotta see 'em for what they are first and call 'em out on it." This, he says from experience. Protest, reform - he was just a teenager himself when he'd lifted his gay rights sign up into the air and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with many a wronged individual. He doesn't believe the world is hopeless, in spite of really wishing he could - reform is possible, just never quite in the childish vein of world-saving and eternal happiness.

Then, a pause; a complete and total halt in the air within which he debates addressing the kid's previous comment. He has no obligation to help him, he tells himself, and yet he almost wants to break him out of a certain dynamic he's sensing. A misplaced affinity or - he could've sworn he detected guilt.

"And lemme tell ya somethin' else, kid." he prefaces with just a little stall - a small moment in time to breathe. "We as a collective - people, society, whatever dramatic word ya wanna call it - tend ta have a certain misconception about family." he stresses on the word, leaning a little forward and letting a palm fall over his own knee, twirling a finger around it. "Almost everyone ya ask's gonna tell ya that you gotta love 'em - that they love you unconditionally 'n that this fact alone should be enough for ya to reciprocate," a little scoff. "Yeah, well, fuck that." He should probably stop swearing in front of the kid but, well, he's already reeling it down.

"Sometimes, your family ain't worth lovin' because they're fuckin' ya up on the daily. Sometimes, your family loves ya in a way that's wrong 'r in a way that's incompatible with how ya need to be loved. 'n ain't nothin' wrong with being pissed about that." a pause, because the next bit hits home. "And sometimes they don't love ya at all. So why should you?" A click at his tongue. "Kid. Y'started by tellin' a stranger how much your mother's smotherin' ya - she's the one who should be defendin' herself, not you. It ain't your fault she's an overbearing asshole."