Burden knows that in life, one must (tithe) wrote in repose,
Re: In-person: Misha B/Damian W
[The fingernails 'gainst nape made Misha shiver in a way that was real good, and he was real sorry to stop the rain of kisses on Damian's face, but Damian was asking questions and talking, and Misha felt deep in his belly that this was real important, this conversation and focusing through the feeling of wanting to just hold onto this boy and feel him close.] I know what's in my head, I reckon, more than I know what's in yours. [That was, after some quiet thought that likely spanned a whole lot longer than Misha realized it did, Misha's response to how he could say how he felt wouldn't change any.] And I already know all 'bout what you don't like 'bout yourself. There's plenty of me you ain't seen. [Misha, he didn't think Damian was a lowlife. He knew the boy inside, what he was like 'neath all the things his short life had put him through, and he understood that Damian was learning and working through things most folks had already gotten plenty of time with by 21.
Sitting, it was nice, and Damian's arm 'round his shoulder was nicer, and Misha shook his head slow and soon as Damian took to talking 'bout being stronger.] You, hush. You ain't wet crackers, and you're stronger than anyone I know. Damian, Sweetheart, you're learning. You're learning to deal with a whole lot of feelings of your own, and then mine on top and everyone else's too. It's a whole lot, and even the strongest folks would buckle 'neath that weight. [Misha's fingers, they didn't move from Damian's mouth, not even when the boy glared.] Damian. I was 10 when I sat in a room and watched my momma kill herself, and I didn't do a thing to stop it. I was 10 when I tried to hang myself. I don't know what's real half the time, and I still ain't sure I ain't delusional 'bout what I am. I had real willing sex with my daddy from long as I can recall, from toddler 'til 10, and when I tried to kill myself it was on account of him being taken from me and shanked in prison. I'm a mess, and 10 grown men with degrees couldn't begin to figure me out. Ain't no one made me feel better 'til you came along. [The black was still devouring the blue of Misha's eyes, but his expression was real earnest, heartfelt and honest.
He considered there, long and quiet and his hands slipping down to rub at Damian's arms to curl the boy close, to pull him real near. One hand cupped Damian's nape real possessive, and Misha's lips brushed 'gainst sharply square jaw as he thought. It was simple affection given real thoughtless, and it was time passing slower than Misha reckoned.] How 'bout if I help? If I tell you what I need when I'm feeling bad. Would that help some? [He nudged Damian's chin up with his nose.] Your problems ain't bad for me, and they ain't the only reason I don't like talking. It's hard for a whole lot of reasons and all to do with me. Just like you don't talk to me always 'bout what's hard for you. Like Lyssa. We don't talk 'bout her. Is that on account of you think I can't handle it? Or is it on account of you? I reckon it's the same as me and my things some, and I reckon we still talk to each other more than we talk to other folks. Right?