Re: In person: Misha B/Damian W
[To be fair, while things felt earth-shattering to Misha, Damian's earth had not been shattered, so much as swallowed. It was his person that had gone to a million pieces. Fractured and lined through with cracks. So, the angel was correct. Damian could not understand what it was like for Misha, at present, as he was hardly himself. He needed more time and he would, of course, need Misha to tell him, because he could not feel what others were feeling. He had no such insights.
And in reality, he did not think Misha did understand he felt his body had been acted upon, or the boy would not have faulted him as much, or so he would have assumed. It was too close an allegory to sexual assault, when thought of from that angle. But it did not matter if Misha saw it as he did or not. He did not have to, and, indeed, Damian likely would not have, had he not experienced it as he did. Likely, Damian could not be blamed for his irrationality at the moment either, considering his reason had been missing for hours and was only beginning to return. He would have disagreed, but it was true. It was difficult to latch onto the notions passed before him by angelic hands and angelic lips. That Alyssa could not be killed, that it was stupid, that not everything could be fixed with a fight. It was like trying to reason with a tantruming child. It just did not work well.—But, Damian did try. Even if that meant he simply stopped expressing what he had been; many took silence as affirmation. He looked at Misha as the boy held his cheeks in palms. He chewed the inside of his cheek. He said nothing.
Until pale fingers dropped and his boyfriend asked if he would not be able to rid himself of Alyssa, as she was reminiscent of Mother. Damian bristled visibly.] No. [His anger had the bonus effect of limiting the tears somewhat.] And I do not want freedom! St-stop trying to make me take it! It-it is not as if I w-want anyone but you! [He was likely just quibbling now because he felt defensive, but he said the words anyway as he clung to Misha. Plus, they were true. He did not want freedom in the manner Misha insisted.—Predictably, Damian was not to be soothed about Janus either, nor about the angel trading his wings.] I did it, I did it, I did it, I will pay for it. Wh-whatever that means. [And he did not budge toward the covers.
Instead, he tried to recall if he had morphine anywhere nearby.]