[He keeps the cigarette a little too long this time, listening to Polnareff talk about things you're supposed to do when you're a kid, the things that make you normal. It strikes him a little chill and bittersweet, like something once warm gone cold in a cup, the contrast between what Polnareff is describing and the things he remembers himself.
He thinks, often, about the person he's trying to become, how he's trying to deviate from the person that some people here evidently remember and occasionally hate. Less often, but still with regularity, he thinks about the person he'd been before all this started. Before the jail, before Star Platinum.
Usually when he thinks about that person, the adjective that comes to mind is stupid.
Maybe Kakyoin did get robbed of that, Kakyoin who always felt different with a visible tangible part of himself that no one around him could see. It's harder to feel like he was robbed of anything himself, because part of being robbed means that something of value was taken away.
He never asked about Jiji, the things he'd been through when he was a youth. Never learned Caesar's name. Took his mother's adoration for granted. Barely connected, set himself apart, no great dreams, no famiglia of friends, no direction. A shell of cazzimma, if that.
That's not Polnareff's point, not at all. He's not going to sit here making himself feel bad about something that isn't even the point.
But it's a relief, he thinks, that now sometimes when he's tempted to dwell on thoughts of everything that's gone wrong with his life, occasionally the silver lining shows itself on its own.
And —
And Polnareff and Kakyoin, they'd be dead or still with that shit in their brains if he hadn't existed in their lives. Is he their silver lining?
For a second, he gets it: the unfathomable gravity of why sometimes he is Kakyoin's entire universe. It's because sometimes Kakyoin sits there and looks at his life in exactly the same way. It's why he can honestly say those fifty days were the best days of his entire life, regardless of how they ended.
Without giving the cigarette back, he half-leans, half-crawls against Polnareff, trying to get as close as he fathomably can without having to resort to climbing up and over him to do it.]
I'm not all that great at talking. Sometimes the words I want just...don't come out right.
[Like now. That has no bearing on anything, and isn't what he wanted to say, but there it is.]
Even when you weren't here, I'd — sometimes. Sometimes I'd just sit there and think, where's Polnareff, I want Polnareff. I have all these people — people who care about me up to my ears and I just.
You too. Okay? Like right now. It's not always a hassle. Sometimes I like being the one holding things up. Sometimes it's just...harder. Feels like if I'm not, then nobody's going to be.
I don't know why I do that. I'm glad you're here. You make it easier to not feel that so much.
no subject
He thinks, often, about the person he's trying to become, how he's trying to deviate from the person that some people here evidently remember and occasionally hate. Less often, but still with regularity, he thinks about the person he'd been before all this started. Before the jail, before Star Platinum.
Usually when he thinks about that person, the adjective that comes to mind is stupid.
Maybe Kakyoin did get robbed of that, Kakyoin who always felt different with a visible tangible part of himself that no one around him could see. It's harder to feel like he was robbed of anything himself, because part of being robbed means that something of value was taken away.
He never asked about Jiji, the things he'd been through when he was a youth. Never learned Caesar's name. Took his mother's adoration for granted. Barely connected, set himself apart, no great dreams, no famiglia of friends, no direction. A shell of cazzimma, if that.
That's not Polnareff's point, not at all. He's not going to sit here making himself feel bad about something that isn't even the point.
But it's a relief, he thinks, that now sometimes when he's tempted to dwell on thoughts of everything that's gone wrong with his life, occasionally the silver lining shows itself on its own.
And —
And Polnareff and Kakyoin, they'd be dead or still with that shit in their brains if he hadn't existed in their lives. Is he their silver lining?
For a second, he gets it: the unfathomable gravity of why sometimes he is Kakyoin's entire universe. It's because sometimes Kakyoin sits there and looks at his life in exactly the same way. It's why he can honestly say those fifty days were the best days of his entire life, regardless of how they ended.
Without giving the cigarette back, he half-leans, half-crawls against Polnareff, trying to get as close as he fathomably can without having to resort to climbing up and over him to do it.]
I'm not all that great at talking. Sometimes the words I want just...don't come out right.
[Like now. That has no bearing on anything, and isn't what he wanted to say, but there it is.]
Even when you weren't here, I'd — sometimes. Sometimes I'd just sit there and think, where's Polnareff, I want Polnareff. I have all these people — people who care about me up to my ears and I just.
You too. Okay? Like right now. It's not always a hassle. Sometimes I like being the one holding things up. Sometimes it's just...harder. Feels like if I'm not, then nobody's going to be.
I don't know why I do that. I'm glad you're here. You make it easier to not feel that so much.