Francis leans into him so Raju can feel the pressure of his arm, and Raju doesn’t understand. That part is familiar, too. He remembers now that he’d told Francis about the torture, at first, expecting it to drive him away. But this is different, surely. What’s past could be mistakes, but what’s future is a choice.
The heavy hand starts rubbing slow, comforting circles over his back and Raju shivers again, a helpless, pleading noise stuck in his throat. His skin is hot under his hands, and under Francis’ hand—
Raju shoves his hands against the ground, closing his eyes. The lines of his face are hard for a moment, stubborn, and he thinks about the sharp sting of the ground against his palms instead, only that, and the heat in his skin begins to collect there.
Flames lick against the ground nearby as the snow sizzles. Smoke starts to rise into the air over it, hard to see against the sky, the dark. Francis’ questions circle in Raju’s mind like Francis’ hand over his back. He hadn’t expected this today. He hadn’t expected it at all. But if Francis is ever going to really understand, if Raju is ever going to know what he thinks at all, which way Raju really scores in his friend’s lofty moral tally, then Raju has to tell him now. He certainly isn’t going to say any of it when he feels better.
He doesn’t know how long he’s been quiet. His mouth is open. His breaths are deep. His hands are hot and the long unending night is cold, and he can feel Francis close and solid behind him. He can feel his body moving back and forth a little, loose and unresisting, under the pressure and motion of Francis’ hand. How long has it been since anyone else has rubbed his back this way? How long will it be, once Francis realises what Raju is?
Put the thought away. Francis needs an answer now. It doesn’t matter how Raju feels about any of it. It can’t matter if he wants to say it at all, so there’s no point thinking about anything more than he needs to.
He begins where he can. He watches the place in the snow in front of him, now mostly smoke, and answers with a voice that’s quiet and matter of fact, emptied of anything else. “I’ve only talked about it to Seetha. I was thirteen. I don’t remember what I said. She was there for… half of it. She was… they carried her away when they ran. So she knew most of it already. But I remember she asked questions. You can ask questions. Small ones. Small scale, I mean. I don’t…”
He frowns a little, and for a moment the frown holds there. He should be able to do this, to just say it. It bothers him, faintly, to have to say this instead.
“I can’t tell it without help. I tried… before. To you, but nothing came out. I don’t know… how to. It happened, that’s all. I don’t really think about it.”
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2024-06-11 07:36 pm (UTC)The heavy hand starts rubbing slow, comforting circles over his back and Raju shivers again, a helpless, pleading noise stuck in his throat. His skin is hot under his hands, and under Francis’ hand—
Raju shoves his hands against the ground, closing his eyes. The lines of his face are hard for a moment, stubborn, and he thinks about the sharp sting of the ground against his palms instead, only that, and the heat in his skin begins to collect there.
Flames lick against the ground nearby as the snow sizzles. Smoke starts to rise into the air over it, hard to see against the sky, the dark. Francis’ questions circle in Raju’s mind like Francis’ hand over his back. He hadn’t expected this today. He hadn’t expected it at all. But if Francis is ever going to really understand, if Raju is ever going to know what he thinks at all, which way Raju really scores in his friend’s lofty moral tally, then Raju has to tell him now. He certainly isn’t going to say any of it when he feels better.
He doesn’t know how long he’s been quiet. His mouth is open. His breaths are deep. His hands are hot and the long unending night is cold, and he can feel Francis close and solid behind him. He can feel his body moving back and forth a little, loose and unresisting, under the pressure and motion of Francis’ hand. How long has it been since anyone else has rubbed his back this way? How long will it be, once Francis realises what Raju is?
Put the thought away. Francis needs an answer now. It doesn’t matter how Raju feels about any of it. It can’t matter if he wants to say it at all, so there’s no point thinking about anything more than he needs to.
He begins where he can. He watches the place in the snow in front of him, now mostly smoke, and answers with a voice that’s quiet and matter of fact, emptied of anything else. “I’ve only talked about it to Seetha. I was thirteen. I don’t remember what I said. She was there for… half of it. She was… they carried her away when they ran. So she knew most of it already. But I remember she asked questions. You can ask questions. Small ones. Small scale, I mean. I don’t…”
He frowns a little, and for a moment the frown holds there. He should be able to do this, to just say it. It bothers him, faintly, to have to say this instead.
“I can’t tell it without help. I tried… before. To you, but nothing came out. I don’t know… how to. It happened, that’s all. I don’t really think about it.”