[ ah. he's not too sure what to do with the sudden contact, tensing slightly. but when she doesn't do anything more than just put her hands on his shoulders, they relax slowly. ]
...
I don't know. [ he looks like whatever he's trying to say is... complicated. there's layers and years scattered over it, and it's hard to push past it sometimes because saying it out loud is like admitting it. and that's-- difficult. it's like he'll lose something if he does. ]
I thought it was her son, for ages. Yang's the one who stole the last page of the book, he was with her when she died. [ ... ] It... probably wasn't though.
[ he knew that all along, really. but when you lose everything, what would you do to keep some spark alive -- to keep looking for someone. hate them because it's easier? maybe. it was better to hate him and remember him, than move on from him and forget entirely. ]
no subject
...
I don't know. [ he looks like whatever he's trying to say is... complicated. there's layers and years scattered over it, and it's hard to push past it sometimes because saying it out loud is like admitting it. and that's-- difficult. it's like he'll lose something if he does. ]
I thought it was her son, for ages. Yang's the one who stole the last page of the book, he was with her when she died. [ ... ] It... probably wasn't though.
[ he knew that all along, really. but when you lose everything, what would you do to keep some spark alive -- to keep looking for someone. hate them because it's easier? maybe. it was better to hate him and remember him, than move on from him and forget entirely. ]