[ He isn't sure what it is that Gen's saying that hurts. It's a dull ache; it's pressing down on an already painful bruise. If the ache is for himself, as Gen says Amos is a good person; if it's for Gen, as he details the way his own role as protector might have hurt rather than fulfilled him. Brutalized him rather than left him with the sense that he was doing something good. Like where Amos' identity as a Lover seems natural when you know what to look for, and he isn't sure if it's just a cruel trick of the universe to assign those same traits to Gen. If he maybe hadn't wanted them in the first place.
The ember of the cigarette takes up his field of vision for a moment, pulling all of his focus towards it. The way it, or the lighter Gen had tossed him, has the potential to create mass destruction to the garden if someone were to let it. What happens when you abuse someone and there isn't anybody there to acknowledge it, let alone pick up the pieces. Watches the ash fall.
His voice is low, quiet, as he speaks. ]
They appreciated it. [ You would've had a home on my ship. You would've had people who cared about you. They wouldn't have put you in that position if you didn't want it. ] That's why I didn't mind doing it for them. Nobody on that ship took advantage of anyone else. Me included.
[ ... Shit. He hates thinking about what Gen must have been thrust into. Killing someone that young, having to protect people that young — he's still young — and without getting so much as a meaningful thank you for it, in all likelihood.
Amos might have come from shit, but he'd ended up in a good situation. And now he's convinced Gen hadn't been able to find that kind of place before ending up here himself, and it brings up something protective in him.
... Is he a good person? Does that make him one? He's silent a moment longer, and then, ] You think I'm a good person because this is the only side of me you've seen.
[ The side that cares. The part of him that opens up to a handful of people and not a whole lot else. It was always going to be open to Gen, because he'd sensed something in there; now that he has a clearer picture of what's actually in there he knows he made the right call. But it doesn't really change anything. ]
This isn't who I actually am. Only sometimes, when I meet people who deserve it. [ ... And that'd be Gen. It's probably too little, too late, but he'd have appreciated his efforts, if he'd ever taken a hit for him.
He can only sigh. At least his throat doesn't itch anymore. This is so much bigger than a mere physical ailment. Those, he can take; this is something he can't really understand, and he knows it's holding him back. Amos glances out at the garden for a second before turning back to Gen, to face the music. ]
If I could be like this for everyone, that'd solve a lot of my problems.
[ He can't.
It doesn't feel like a rejection from Gen, more just a gentle pushing back against him. They both have their limitations. Maybe they can wish they didn't, but they do; they have to live with them. He gets it. Sometimes there's just no helping someone from where they've found themselves stuck so long they have no choice but to call it normal, call it home. ]
no subject
The ember of the cigarette takes up his field of vision for a moment, pulling all of his focus towards it. The way it, or the lighter Gen had tossed him, has the potential to create mass destruction to the garden if someone were to let it. What happens when you abuse someone and there isn't anybody there to acknowledge it, let alone pick up the pieces. Watches the ash fall.
His voice is low, quiet, as he speaks. ]
They appreciated it. [ You would've had a home on my ship. You would've had people who cared about you. They wouldn't have put you in that position if you didn't want it. ] That's why I didn't mind doing it for them. Nobody on that ship took advantage of anyone else. Me included.
[ ... Shit. He hates thinking about what Gen must have been thrust into. Killing someone that young, having to protect people that young — he's still young — and without getting so much as a meaningful thank you for it, in all likelihood.
Amos might have come from shit, but he'd ended up in a good situation. And now he's convinced Gen hadn't been able to find that kind of place before ending up here himself, and it brings up something protective in him.
... Is he a good person? Does that make him one? He's silent a moment longer, and then, ] You think I'm a good person because this is the only side of me you've seen.
[ The side that cares. The part of him that opens up to a handful of people and not a whole lot else. It was always going to be open to Gen, because he'd sensed something in there; now that he has a clearer picture of what's actually in there he knows he made the right call. But it doesn't really change anything. ]
This isn't who I actually am. Only sometimes, when I meet people who deserve it. [ ... And that'd be Gen. It's probably too little, too late, but he'd have appreciated his efforts, if he'd ever taken a hit for him.
He can only sigh. At least his throat doesn't itch anymore. This is so much bigger than a mere physical ailment. Those, he can take; this is something he can't really understand, and he knows it's holding him back. Amos glances out at the garden for a second before turning back to Gen, to face the music. ]
If I could be like this for everyone, that'd solve a lot of my problems.
[ He can't.
It doesn't feel like a rejection from Gen, more just a gentle pushing back against him. They both have their limitations. Maybe they can wish they didn't, but they do; they have to live with them. He gets it. Sometimes there's just no helping someone from where they've found themselves stuck so long they have no choice but to call it normal, call it home. ]