[ Though there's no outward reaction, Amos certainly feels that barb Gen sends his way. It's not so much that he's eager to die that he simply wouldn't mind if it happened. ... Does that make him eager? Either way, yeah, he definitely fucked up, expressing that. One way or another he's just hurt Gen again—
And Misa.
Amos feels himself bottoming out when he brings her up. His face goes a degree paler; a pain he didn't know he was capable of feeling ripping through his heart. He could argue that nobody should've come looking for him to begin with, that Misa's stronger than she looks, that everyone would be better off without him, but it all feels hollow after that.
Get your shit together is right. Amos hates himself, and he does his best to tamp those feelings down because they're the opposite of him having his shit together. He'd been blind to it, but turns out there are people here who care about him, and as long as he defaults to shit like this, he's just going to end up hurting them, one way or another.
More than anything else, he probably needed someone to speak that way to him after all. But while he processes it, it's all Amos can do but to stay silent. Watch Gen. Take in every single thing he has to say, because for as much as he's tried to look out for him, who knows if he'd ever succeeded — and Gen is doing him one much better right now. ]
You're right.
[ It's soft and quiet, but there it is. There's his answer. Amos can't argue with any of it. He sits completely still, thoroughly chastened, knowing there's nothing he can really do in this moment to fix things. It'll all have to come later, through actions he'll have to prove again, and again, and again. He can't promise that he'll be able to; he has to, or else he's gonna fuck things up even worse. ]
I kinda have a problem with shades of grey. Everything's just black and white to me. Don't really know how to be any other way. [ Isn't that just another one of his faults— god damn it, it's so easy to keep falling back into that trap. He gives a small shake of his head. ] Like going out and getting fucked up made it all go away for a while. So I did that. It was the only thing that made sense. Didn't even think of anyone else. Couldn't.
[ Except now he's going to have to learn to do that, isn't he. Amos' gaze flicks back up to the white streak in Gen's hair. Back down to his eyes. He did that. He can own it.
... He's still not sure if he should reach out, give Gen's shoulder a friendly little shake like he normally would have in this moment. It still feels fucked up. This sucks, but at some point he'll get over it, even if it's not now, even if it should be. Instead, Amos just lets out a little puff of air, like he's been winded, Gen landing a really good punch on him. ]
Thanks. For kicking my ass just now. Don't think anybody's done that to me before. Kinda needed it.
[ Can't promise any guarantees; it's hard to rewrite decades of guiding life philosophy just like that. What had been instilled in him. Whatever feelings Gen had had towards the woman who might've guided him in his own life, Amos had never experienced them for himself. Had loved and followed his own guiding figure implicitly, like his life had depended on it. It kinda had. So things have to work out that easily. They have to.
no subject
And Misa.
Amos feels himself bottoming out when he brings her up. His face goes a degree paler; a pain he didn't know he was capable of feeling ripping through his heart. He could argue that nobody should've come looking for him to begin with, that Misa's stronger than she looks, that everyone would be better off without him, but it all feels hollow after that.
Get your shit together is right. Amos hates himself, and he does his best to tamp those feelings down because they're the opposite of him having his shit together. He'd been blind to it, but turns out there are people here who care about him, and as long as he defaults to shit like this, he's just going to end up hurting them, one way or another.
More than anything else, he probably needed someone to speak that way to him after all. But while he processes it, it's all Amos can do but to stay silent. Watch Gen. Take in every single thing he has to say, because for as much as he's tried to look out for him, who knows if he'd ever succeeded — and Gen is doing him one much better right now. ]
You're right.
[ It's soft and quiet, but there it is. There's his answer. Amos can't argue with any of it. He sits completely still, thoroughly chastened, knowing there's nothing he can really do in this moment to fix things. It'll all have to come later, through actions he'll have to prove again, and again, and again. He can't promise that he'll be able to; he has to, or else he's gonna fuck things up even worse. ]
I kinda have a problem with shades of grey. Everything's just black and white to me. Don't really know how to be any other way. [ Isn't that just another one of his faults— god damn it, it's so easy to keep falling back into that trap. He gives a small shake of his head. ] Like going out and getting fucked up made it all go away for a while. So I did that. It was the only thing that made sense. Didn't even think of anyone else. Couldn't.
[ Except now he's going to have to learn to do that, isn't he. Amos' gaze flicks back up to the white streak in Gen's hair. Back down to his eyes. He did that. He can own it.
... He's still not sure if he should reach out, give Gen's shoulder a friendly little shake like he normally would have in this moment. It still feels fucked up. This sucks, but at some point he'll get over it, even if it's not now, even if it should be. Instead, Amos just lets out a little puff of air, like he's been winded, Gen landing a really good punch on him. ]
Thanks. For kicking my ass just now. Don't think anybody's done that to me before. Kinda needed it.
[ Can't promise any guarantees; it's hard to rewrite decades of guiding life philosophy just like that. What had been instilled in him. Whatever feelings Gen had had towards the woman who might've guided him in his own life, Amos had never experienced them for himself. Had loved and followed his own guiding figure implicitly, like his life had depended on it. It kinda had. So things have to work out that easily. They have to.
... But the rest of it, maybe he can be better. ]