It's Francis' fingers under his chin, tilting his head up. He can feel them there. He holds his chin up that way, the way Francis wants it, and breathes out very slowly, and as Raju watches the flannel dipping into the water the line of his shoulders and the tension in the rest of him drains out a little more. The flannel moves under Raju's eye and seems very close to him, close in a way the careful cleaning of his hand couldn't quite be, and his alert expression begins to relax in another slow breath out of him and half-lidded eyes. His fingers start to curl over his legs. But then—
It's all of you. It's all you. Him. Raju's eyes are still relaxed but his eyebrows pull in toward each other, frown faint but troubled. Only him, who did those terrible things. Not only his body but his mind, his self, who's capable of all of that. Those safer, better parts of him the monster, too. His chest moves fast with his breath for one breath, two, his heart beating faster, and his eyes slide off of Francis' face. He lets his heart beat too fast, lets his breaths come a little fast, while he stops thinking about the cause of it, his mind sliding onto safer paths and trying to leave that one behind. Francis had said other things too, things Raju had wanted to answer properly. His hands are frozen on his legs, half-curled. He makes his fingers stretch flat again. He feels his trousers against the skin of his palms, tries to track where Francis' hand is now. He breathes slowly in, and out again. He thinks back over the other things Francis had to say, his beautiful things. Things that had mattered, that Raju had wanted to feel. He can feel, can't he, now.
"You were sincere. I never thought you weren't." He realises he's looking up at the ceiling somewhere behind Francis, and moves his gaze back to the blue of his friend's eyes. He can't think why he'd want to look anywhere else. "You're a good man too, you know. Your morals, your decency, your kindness. Remember when you made those mittens for me? I didn't tell you how much it hurt, the cold. It was still new, then. I couldn't stand it, having to lose my mind on my own inside or go out into the damn cold so long that it hurt, and it always hurt. But you sewed them, for a man you barely even knew. With one hand. I almost wept right there when you gave them to me, you must have noticed. And you're always that way. Your morals, your decency. I've always admired it, even when we were... arguing. That's why I was, I was..."
He tries to figure out what he'd been, what he'd been thinking during that strange interval between coming home and going back out of it again, and snorts softly, giving up on figuring it out. "...so angry. The way you were talking about the children and the people who didn't agree with you were so different."
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It's all of you. It's all you. Him. Raju's eyes are still relaxed but his eyebrows pull in toward each other, frown faint but troubled. Only him, who did those terrible things. Not only his body but his mind, his self, who's capable of all of that. Those safer, better parts of him the monster, too. His chest moves fast with his breath for one breath, two, his heart beating faster, and his eyes slide off of Francis' face. He lets his heart beat too fast, lets his breaths come a little fast, while he stops thinking about the cause of it, his mind sliding onto safer paths and trying to leave that one behind. Francis had said other things too, things Raju had wanted to answer properly. His hands are frozen on his legs, half-curled. He makes his fingers stretch flat again. He feels his trousers against the skin of his palms, tries to track where Francis' hand is now. He breathes slowly in, and out again. He thinks back over the other things Francis had to say, his beautiful things. Things that had mattered, that Raju had wanted to feel. He can feel, can't he, now.
"You were sincere. I never thought you weren't." He realises he's looking up at the ceiling somewhere behind Francis, and moves his gaze back to the blue of his friend's eyes. He can't think why he'd want to look anywhere else. "You're a good man too, you know. Your morals, your decency, your kindness. Remember when you made those mittens for me? I didn't tell you how much it hurt, the cold. It was still new, then. I couldn't stand it, having to lose my mind on my own inside or go out into the damn cold so long that it hurt, and it always hurt. But you sewed them, for a man you barely even knew. With one hand. I almost wept right there when you gave them to me, you must have noticed. And you're always that way. Your morals, your decency. I've always admired it, even when we were... arguing. That's why I was, I was..."
He tries to figure out what he'd been, what he'd been thinking during that strange interval between coming home and going back out of it again, and snorts softly, giving up on figuring it out. "...so angry. The way you were talking about the children and the people who didn't agree with you were so different."