[The instinct to perch on something overrides him then, but there's nothing in the house that would support his weight or grant him the satisfaction he's hoping for, so he ends up having to make do as best he can with what he has, which ends up being adjusting the way he's crouching into a more withdrawn, subconsciously stoic pose. Little does he realize the effect it has on his overall appearance; unbeknownst to him, he looks like a gargoyle in the way that he's arranged himself, in a pose that to him just feels natural but outwardly looks classic and stony.
The reassurance, in and of itself, doesn't do much. Words don't. He can tell himself words as much as he wants, or people can tell them to him, and in the end they'll still only be words.
It's the other component of the exchange, though, that does pierce through. That it's altogether too easy for him to mistake general bitterness for targeted frustration — that lately his impulse seems always to assume that if something is wrong and he hasn't fixed it, then that makes it his fault if for no other reason than from the inaction. It's hard to set those thoughts aside at all, and more and more he's growing to discover that it's not something he's really capable of doing all on his own.
You have done everything right.
It never feels like that.
But believing Rohan is easier than convincing himself, and so after a while he just nods slightly, and wonders if his body language shows how grateful he is for these few and far between moments when he almost feels like he's connected with someone on a level that he usually can't — these small ports of respite in the tempest that is his loneliness.]
Okay.
[He should say more, probably, but he doesn't know what to say. He should feel more than he does about the dead man laid out between them, but if he does then this fleeting feeling of relief might vanish, and he's not willing to surrender it just yet.]
You don't...have to transcend. Around me. If you don't want. If you still want to then do what you want but. ...When you're not fine, if you say something...
I'm saying don't just "survive". I guess. It feels like that's all I do, is just "survive". And it sucks. I don't want you to feel like that all the time, like I do.
no subject
The reassurance, in and of itself, doesn't do much. Words don't. He can tell himself words as much as he wants, or people can tell them to him, and in the end they'll still only be words.
It's the other component of the exchange, though, that does pierce through. That it's altogether too easy for him to mistake general bitterness for targeted frustration — that lately his impulse seems always to assume that if something is wrong and he hasn't fixed it, then that makes it his fault if for no other reason than from the inaction. It's hard to set those thoughts aside at all, and more and more he's growing to discover that it's not something he's really capable of doing all on his own.
You have done everything right.
It never feels like that.
But believing Rohan is easier than convincing himself, and so after a while he just nods slightly, and wonders if his body language shows how grateful he is for these few and far between moments when he almost feels like he's connected with someone on a level that he usually can't — these small ports of respite in the tempest that is his loneliness.]
Okay.
[He should say more, probably, but he doesn't know what to say. He should feel more than he does about the dead man laid out between them, but if he does then this fleeting feeling of relief might vanish, and he's not willing to surrender it just yet.]
You don't...have to transcend. Around me. If you don't want. If you still want to then do what you want but. ...When you're not fine, if you say something...
I'm saying don't just "survive". I guess. It feels like that's all I do, is just "survive". And it sucks. I don't want you to feel like that all the time, like I do.