[ He will cradle that light for as long as he possibly can. Amos gets the need to shelter it, close it off from others. It's none of his business, but with what he knows Gen's been through, he really gets it. It's hard to come back from something like that. Even harder when people don't appreciate you for it.
But that flicker of light still exists inside Gen, and Amos felt it. Almost wonders if that's what Gen feels from him sometimes — everything he's blind to that still manages to make its way out anyway, if only because he doesn't know it exists for him to do everything he can to preserve.
Something he probably wouldn't keep close, anyway. It was nearly beaten out of him so young that he's spent a lifetime craving it, not knowing that he still has it, too faint to really do much of anything with most of the time.
But he knows Gen still has his, so it's something that needs to be protected. Fuck; Amos will appreciate him and it every step of the way.
And he knows it. They both know it. So they're good.
Even if Gen is going to close it off again, Amos is still going to respond to that soft laugh with one of his own, a compassionate tilt of his head, a light smile. He watches easily as Gen tampers down the dying remnants of his cigarette, something warm and gentle in him when he meets his eyes again.
If Gen will close off that light, then Amos will subconsciously reciprocate it anyway, instinctual in all the ways he wishes he could be and can't appreciate how much he actually is. ]
Lame's one way of putting it. [ There's a tinge of good humour in his voice; he gets it. The downplaying. If anything, it serves as a reminder as to how young Gen still is, and he's glad for it — despite everything, there's a part of him that's still just a kid. ] But yeah. I hear you. Never met my dad, but I had someone else to teach me that. [ He pauses, and then... fuck it, actually. ] Her name was Lydia. She was kind of like my mom growing up, I guess. Not a good person, but she tried to be; taught me to live that way, too. I'd've probably ended up gunned down in the middle of the street if it wasn't for her. Probably would've hurt a lot more people along the way, too.
[ But he doesn't want to. Amos will; he knows that. But he actively tries not to, and that has to be enough for someone like him. ]
Just as long as we keep following that advice, right? Then they'll be alright.
[ Everyone they care about.
... He also gets what Gen is doing. Things got real and while Amos is the type to lean into it, not everyone is. Plus it's kinda late. And they're both a little fucked up. His throat isn't bothering him anymore, though. Maybe Gen's doing alright too now.
So he's gonna go for it. Amos brings up his left hand, moves to ruffle Gen's hair a little before he can completely dodge out of the way, smile a little too big for the reaction he's pretty sure he's gonna get. ]
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But that flicker of light still exists inside Gen, and Amos felt it. Almost wonders if that's what Gen feels from him sometimes — everything he's blind to that still manages to make its way out anyway, if only because he doesn't know it exists for him to do everything he can to preserve.
Something he probably wouldn't keep close, anyway. It was nearly beaten out of him so young that he's spent a lifetime craving it, not knowing that he still has it, too faint to really do much of anything with most of the time.
But he knows Gen still has his, so it's something that needs to be protected. Fuck; Amos will appreciate him and it every step of the way.
And he knows it. They both know it. So they're good.
Even if Gen is going to close it off again, Amos is still going to respond to that soft laugh with one of his own, a compassionate tilt of his head, a light smile. He watches easily as Gen tampers down the dying remnants of his cigarette, something warm and gentle in him when he meets his eyes again.
If Gen will close off that light, then Amos will subconsciously reciprocate it anyway, instinctual in all the ways he wishes he could be and can't appreciate how much he actually is. ]
Lame's one way of putting it. [ There's a tinge of good humour in his voice; he gets it. The downplaying. If anything, it serves as a reminder as to how young Gen still is, and he's glad for it — despite everything, there's a part of him that's still just a kid. ] But yeah. I hear you. Never met my dad, but I had someone else to teach me that. [ He pauses, and then... fuck it, actually. ] Her name was Lydia. She was kind of like my mom growing up, I guess. Not a good person, but she tried to be; taught me to live that way, too. I'd've probably ended up gunned down in the middle of the street if it wasn't for her. Probably would've hurt a lot more people along the way, too.
[ But he doesn't want to. Amos will; he knows that. But he actively tries not to, and that has to be enough for someone like him. ]
Just as long as we keep following that advice, right? Then they'll be alright.
[ Everyone they care about.
... He also gets what Gen is doing. Things got real and while Amos is the type to lean into it, not everyone is. Plus it's kinda late. And they're both a little fucked up. His throat isn't bothering him anymore, though. Maybe Gen's doing alright too now.
So he's gonna go for it. Amos brings up his left hand, moves to ruffle Gen's hair a little before he can completely dodge out of the way, smile a little too big for the reaction he's pretty sure he's gonna get. ]