[ 'You're right,' Amos says. And that in itself is a strange experience.
It's not that nobody's said those words to him before. But nobody's said them like that to him. Gen is accustomed to those words being said carelessly, by his father's employees who he knows were only obliged to listen to him because of his father, and by the other students he'd bullied, the words meek and mealy-mouthed and mumbled just to get him off their backs. Nobody's ever said those words -- 'You're right' -- to him in the way that Amos has, with a strange gravity, like he's actually said something that matters.
And he's not sure how to feel about it.
Gen finally looks up from the surface of his drink, fixing Amos with a wary look. And while he's sure he'll need more time to digest how he feels about Amos saying he's right -- because Gen, for all his fault, has never been under the delusion that he's a normal person who thinks the way normal people should -- he thankfully gets a distraction in the form of that little huff Amos gives.
It's like some invisible tension dissipates. That little sign that maybe things have shifted into a slightly less volatile state has him breathing a tiny sigh of relief in turn, and Gen bites his lip for a moment before throwing back the rest of his drink. -- it feels strange to think that he might have solved some problem, at least in part, without the use of force. He keeps getting the uneasy sensation that it wasn't enough, somehow. ]
Look, I get it. [ Gen sighs again as he slides his empty glass across the bar; when the bartender gives him a look, he shakes his head to indicate he doesn't want another. ] I get wanting not to think about things. I don't know what you've been through, and I'm not about to ask, but ... I get it.
[ He'd never deny the appeal of blind hedonism to block out the threat of shitty thoughts. Like he hasn't spent plenty of evenings distracting himself in whatever way he could. ]
And s'not like I meant to kick your ass. I didn't even say anything that special. ... I think. Just ...
[ How the hell did he plan on ending that sentence? 'It'll be okay?' Haha, as if. 'It's not all your fault.' But sometimes it might be. 'Don't worry about it.' Easier said than done. Gen scuffs a hand through his hair once more, frustrated by the difficulty of finding words that feel right, before finishing lamely: ]
Just take it easy. [ wow, nailed it. He sure isn't a horribly emotionally-constipated youth with his eloquence further kneecapped by lifelong expectations of stoic masculinity. ] We've all been through enough shit these past few days. Should probably be resting up instead of wasting any more energy on this bullshit.
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It's not that nobody's said those words to him before. But nobody's said them like that to him. Gen is accustomed to those words being said carelessly, by his father's employees who he knows were only obliged to listen to him because of his father, and by the other students he'd bullied, the words meek and mealy-mouthed and mumbled just to get him off their backs. Nobody's ever said those words -- 'You're right' -- to him in the way that Amos has, with a strange gravity, like he's actually said something that matters.
And he's not sure how to feel about it.
Gen finally looks up from the surface of his drink, fixing Amos with a wary look. And while he's sure he'll need more time to digest how he feels about Amos saying he's right -- because Gen, for all his fault, has never been under the delusion that he's a normal person who thinks the way normal people should -- he thankfully gets a distraction in the form of that little huff Amos gives.
It's like some invisible tension dissipates. That little sign that maybe things have shifted into a slightly less volatile state has him breathing a tiny sigh of relief in turn, and Gen bites his lip for a moment before throwing back the rest of his drink. -- it feels strange to think that he might have solved some problem, at least in part, without the use of force. He keeps getting the uneasy sensation that it wasn't enough, somehow. ]
Look, I get it. [ Gen sighs again as he slides his empty glass across the bar; when the bartender gives him a look, he shakes his head to indicate he doesn't want another. ] I get wanting not to think about things. I don't know what you've been through, and I'm not about to ask, but ... I get it.
[ He'd never deny the appeal of blind hedonism to block out the threat of shitty thoughts. Like he hasn't spent plenty of evenings distracting himself in whatever way he could. ]
And s'not like I meant to kick your ass. I didn't even say anything that special. ... I think. Just ...
[ How the hell did he plan on ending that sentence? 'It'll be okay?' Haha, as if. 'It's not all your fault.' But sometimes it might be. 'Don't worry about it.' Easier said than done. Gen scuffs a hand through his hair once more, frustrated by the difficulty of finding words that feel right, before finishing lamely: ]
Just take it easy. [ wow, nailed it. He sure isn't a horribly emotionally-constipated youth with his eloquence further kneecapped by lifelong expectations of stoic masculinity. ] We've all been through enough shit these past few days. Should probably be resting up instead of wasting any more energy on this bullshit.