Re: In-person: Misha B/Damian W
[Damian did not disagree with the statement about admission of non-humanity. It was not that he agreed, per se, but it was not his feeling to feel one way or another about. It was enough to know it had Misha feeling so. He only looked on at the boy with eyes wide.—And, it made sense, did it not? That talking would be more difficult, less effective, yet more work, and that that was not what Misha was meant to do. Perhaps Damian had never truly understood what it meant for the angel to flee home and duty. He wondered if Misha felt a loss, or if the closeness to humanity was enough.] I do not know what I was asking, [the man said, dismissive of that knowing tone. Damian stared at his boyfriend.] You are human. You are not human, as well. I know you wish to be only human, but, perhaps then you would not be you, and I like you. I love you. [This was also not the point. He carried on.] Why do they caution against getting to know charges personally? It is a well-known slope? Once they become something more, you are ...more involved? Also, I am glad that I may see you. I do not think you acted incorrectly with the man, Daniel. You did what you could. Even guardian angels cannot please everyone, correct?
[He liked being close, Damian did, to Misha. Pressed up against him, as if there was little division between them, just barrier of clothing, skin, muscle, and bone. The angel's warmth was his, his was the angel's, and he loved the boy very much. Of course, every nerve of his and every bit of instinct told him this was weak and stupid, and that he was as sickly as every other degenerate on the planet. He was meant to be better, above, superior. ...But, he did not want to be. Not if it meant he could not do this. So he shoved those thoughts away and he clung.
His nod was imperceptible. Yes, he was speaking of the addiction differently, though he did not know how precisely, only that it felt so. And he nodded with somewhat more evidence when Misha said he understood. He liked that he could feel the angel's smile where it blossomed against his temple, and he scoffed, his breath against bared throat.] That, [he said haughtily,] is not the same. You are not... [He was still learning the words he needed for this topic, so Damian struggled slightly.] You are not a manner of coping. You are only you. Though, it is true, I did not want to want you. [He was not ashamed of this, though perhaps he ought have been. Instead, he moved on, talking of emotion and feeling too much, and he listened to Misha when the boy spoke of his time just after leaving his foster father.] I do not know how to 'just feel,' [was another confession. Though he did not interrupt again.] It is understandable that you would feel this way, [he said of the world-ending. But, Damian blinked, surprised at the revelation that this boy felt distance.] Truly? I thought you liked to feel. What made you feel once more? You are speaking of refusing your—angelhood, that being the distance? [Emotions were muddled things to Damian. He was not meant to identify them in himself with precision. In others, yes, so as to manipulate them, but even that he was not as skilled at as he ought have been. (Perhaps as he had no reference, but he did not know this might be the case.)—He lifted his chin as Misha nosed against dark, wiry hair, and he kissed cheek or chin or whatever was there.] I did not know you felt jealous. Only that you were not pleased, then were further displeased with your own displeasure. You allow yourself to feel positive emotions without shame. Why is it not the same for the negative? [Misha peered down at him, Damian up, and fingers propped under his chin. He did not tug away.] Fine. I ken. [He moved his chin now, out of grasp, to bury his face against throat and shoulder, and spoke there.] Perhaps it is easier to need something inanimate, rather than a person. The morphine does not know I am weak.