Raju raises his eyes and looks over, surprised, at Francis’ laugh, his admiration. It’s the perfect opposite to what Raju’s feeling. Francis sounds proud.
When he looks back at his hand the fire is dimmer, and he grimaces. Damn it. Francis is too… too kind, too soothing. He’s too used to the way it feels looking at him, and that feeling is only going to help. Which isn’t what they need right now.
He tilts the can, aiming the light more toward the ground. Alright, but not enough. It would be enough, wouldn’t it, if he had practiced, but he’s grown lazy here, forgotten how to push himself and Francis isn’t the only person who’s going to suffer for it and Raju knows that, he knows that. He needs to do better. The feeling sitting heavy at the bottom of his stomach reaches up and squeezes at the base of his throat, and—
There. Better, anyway, if not quite as bright as it was. But he can’t let himself think that way for too long or he’s going to relax. His mind doesn’t want to hold onto any of these thoughts, and forcing them from slipping away into their usual place closer to the back of his mind is going to take constant attention.
“I’ll see farther if you stop being so damn kind to me,” he mutters, voice pitched low with irritation that doesn’t belong where he’s putting it, that feels wrong to aim that way but he can see the way that wrong feeling is helping and that’s the only part that matters, and the rest is a problem for later.
no subject
When he looks back at his hand the fire is dimmer, and he grimaces. Damn it. Francis is too… too kind, too soothing. He’s too used to the way it feels looking at him, and that feeling is only going to help. Which isn’t what they need right now.
He tilts the can, aiming the light more toward the ground. Alright, but not enough. It would be enough, wouldn’t it, if he had practiced, but he’s grown lazy here, forgotten how to push himself and Francis isn’t the only person who’s going to suffer for it and Raju knows that, he knows that. He needs to do better. The feeling sitting heavy at the bottom of his stomach reaches up and squeezes at the base of his throat, and—
There. Better, anyway, if not quite as bright as it was. But he can’t let himself think that way for too long or he’s going to relax. His mind doesn’t want to hold onto any of these thoughts, and forcing them from slipping away into their usual place closer to the back of his mind is going to take constant attention.
“I’ll see farther if you stop being so damn kind to me,” he mutters, voice pitched low with irritation that doesn’t belong where he’s putting it, that feels wrong to aim that way but he can see the way that wrong feeling is helping and that’s the only part that matters, and the rest is a problem for later.