Re: log; misha and adrian
Misha, he missed home. It was real odd, seeing as there wasn't nothing good to remember there, but he still missed it. But, Adrian, it sounded like this place had been legitimately good for him. Too, it sounded like Repose had been real awful, and he was glad the child Adrian had been had come on over here, and at least had some better times.
"Honey, my point is that being scared, it makes some sense. Folks, they're scared of what they don't understand, and some folks don't understand being gay. The man at the bar, he was just posturing so his friends didn't call him a fag, and punching me in the face made him less scared they'd realize he wasn't straight as he claimed. It's okay. It ain't good or kind, but, fear, it's a real strong motivator for folks. It's something instinctive, going back to surviving, and survival is the strongest instinct folks got," he explained. "Being brave, it ain't an easy thing." In front of them, the memory filled the room, and Misha watched as knuckles met with cheekbone.
He gave Adrian a real kindly look, pale eyes glowing bright and blue. "Honey, it ain't 'bout putting it out. It's 'bout letting it go. If you focus on it, even to put it out, it's still focusing," he explained, but he wasn't sure that was going to make sense any.
And, Misha, all he had to go on, 'bout if this had worked or not, was Adrian. He could poke 'round the boy's brain again, but he wasn't keen to. He didn't want to do anything more than he'd done, and he thought it felt right, but he couldn't be sure any. He thought on that as he looked at the hand that was held out to him. He felt bad, on account of not returning the grip, and then he just pressed his palm to Adrian's. It was just a graze of touch, but the touch came with a real soothing warmth. It was just peace, there' in the other boy's grasp, and it was meant to be illustrative.
Misha, he hugged his knees after. "What are you tired of, specifically? What kind of good? What's making you so tired?"