It's not for you? Raju looks down, crossed arms pressing down harder over his chest. It's not, for you?
At home, the people waiting for him at home, caring for them had been easy. Well. It had been hard. But that difficulty had been his world, and pushing himself through all the needs and the duties and the trials of it had always come to him like breathing. Then he thinks of the people living not so far away in the building he'd spent so much time sleeping in, a place full of people sleeping, eating, living next to one another who never spoke. It'd been like the barracks that way, familiar. The barracks had always been that way, not for others, but for him. He thinks of the people living there, and in the town, and in the houses scattered around it. Scattered like the people themselves, their lives sitting loose and separate instead of woven tightly together, any rule — such as it is — decided on based on what was more comfortable, instead of on which of them needed it. Raju thinks, and he compares, and he realises.
It is easy. Only if those people are his. He hadn't thought it of himself, in any moment before this one: it's easy for me, only if.
"No." He's too used to being open, with Francis: he realises only afterward that the word's come out with pain obvious in it.
"No," he murmurs, voice harder now to press the other emotion out. "It's not."
It's not for you? he hears in his mind again, jaw tight, and has to know. "Does that surprise you?"
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2024-08-06 02:25 pm (UTC)At home, the people waiting for him at home, caring for them had been easy. Well. It had been hard. But that difficulty had been his world, and pushing himself through all the needs and the duties and the trials of it had always come to him like breathing. Then he thinks of the people living not so far away in the building he'd spent so much time sleeping in, a place full of people sleeping, eating, living next to one another who never spoke. It'd been like the barracks that way, familiar. The barracks had always been that way, not for others, but for him. He thinks of the people living there, and in the town, and in the houses scattered around it. Scattered like the people themselves, their lives sitting loose and separate instead of woven tightly together, any rule — such as it is — decided on based on what was more comfortable, instead of on which of them needed it. Raju thinks, and he compares, and he realises.
It is easy. Only if those people are his. He hadn't thought it of himself, in any moment before this one: it's easy for me, only if.
"No." He's too used to being open, with Francis: he realises only afterward that the word's come out with pain obvious in it.
"No," he murmurs, voice harder now to press the other emotion out. "It's not."
It's not for you? he hears in his mind again, jaw tight, and has to know. "Does that surprise you?"