His knees ache a little from the awkward angle of his arm, and he finds himself leaning slightly into him to relieve the pressure. He figures if he burns then at least he'll burn with his arm around someone, holding them close.
It's impossible to ignore the pause between 'you deserve to know what of kind of...' and 'what you've been sleeping next to all this time'. There's something unspoken in that heavy pause. He wonders if he knows, if the rest of that initial sentence had been, 'you deserve to know what kind of man you've fallen in love with.' He's been found out; that's why he's so angry, trying to push him away.
He takes his own deep breath, still smelling smoke in the air. He chastises himself; this isn't about him and his silly feelings. Raju is two seconds from bursting into flames and here he is thinking about frivolous things like rejection and embarrassments, things that don't matter in the least up against this. He pushes himself down the other path and considers Raju's answer carefully.
"No," he answers simply. That isn't quite it. Why he crosses those lines, what is he fighting so hard to do? What is it that drives him to do the things that others shy away? He wants to know those things, his actual why.
"No," he says again, hand still on his back. He rubs in slow circles now, silently reminding him that he isn't going anywhere, at least in part because answer isn't satisfying, although he does believes him. He believes that he's the man to get things done when others can't stomach it. He knows that he'll cross lines and give his entire self, good or bad, to get something done. "I know what kind of man you are. Why did you enlist, Raju? What happened with your father?"
It's as plain as he's ever put his questions to him. No dancing around it this time, he wants to know why he's the one who took on this burden. Just why did he torture that man? Why would he do it again? What's waiting for him on the other side of all this?
He can see the pendant on his wrist, a little reminder of the love at home. He's a sentimental man. Cruelty and sentiment don't mix.
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His knees ache a little from the awkward angle of his arm, and he finds himself leaning slightly into him to relieve the pressure. He figures if he burns then at least he'll burn with his arm around someone, holding them close.
It's impossible to ignore the pause between 'you deserve to know what of kind of...' and 'what you've been sleeping next to all this time'. There's something unspoken in that heavy pause. He wonders if he knows, if the rest of that initial sentence had been, 'you deserve to know what kind of man you've fallen in love with.' He's been found out; that's why he's so angry, trying to push him away.
He takes his own deep breath, still smelling smoke in the air. He chastises himself; this isn't about him and his silly feelings. Raju is two seconds from bursting into flames and here he is thinking about frivolous things like rejection and embarrassments, things that don't matter in the least up against this. He pushes himself down the other path and considers Raju's answer carefully.
"No," he answers simply. That isn't quite it. Why he crosses those lines, what is he fighting so hard to do? What is it that drives him to do the things that others shy away? He wants to know those things, his actual why.
"No," he says again, hand still on his back. He rubs in slow circles now, silently reminding him that he isn't going anywhere, at least in part because answer isn't satisfying, although he does believes him. He believes that he's the man to get things done when others can't stomach it. He knows that he'll cross lines and give his entire self, good or bad, to get something done. "I know what kind of man you are. Why did you enlist, Raju? What happened with your father?"
It's as plain as he's ever put his questions to him. No dancing around it this time, he wants to know why he's the one who took on this burden. Just why did he torture that man? Why would he do it again? What's waiting for him on the other side of all this?
He can see the pendant on his wrist, a little reminder of the love at home. He's a sentimental man. Cruelty and sentiment don't mix.