As soon as he's in reach of John's face, Edwin presses himself against his brother's cheek and neck, his 'fur' soft as down thanks to practice but still cool to the touch.
"M..." He stops, remembers the promise he made himself about Arthur, and changes what he was going to say. "Maybe next time there's a... talent show or... something like that, like at Christmas, we can play something."
Another pause as they get to the deck and Edwin takes a moment to simply enjoy being with his brother, enjoy the view and that they're sharing it. He tries to send that back to John, hopes that he can feel it even if this body can't project the way John's can.
Then, contemplation, while he shifts to perch his chin against John's fingers. Under there please. "Not really. It's just... true. When you say the wrong things, people get angry, and when people get angry, they'll hurt you. When you don't know what they're saying, what they want you to say back. Not everyone all the time, but everybody sometimes. And you don't know if they're going to be in a mood to get angry until you talk to them, so you have to be ready."
Under chin is being scritched. And he's going to nuzzle his little fuzzy cheek with his nose while he does it, drinking in the view and the happiness and sending back appreciation and joy. He loves you, little brother. So very much.
His voice is syrupy and warm as he asks the question he asks.
"So is making people angry what makes something the 'wrong' thing?" A nuzzle. "I don't think I've ever got angry because you said the wrong thing. Am I different?"
"Yes." To the first question, again perplexed, but still calm. He closes his eyes happily, wondering if he can figure out how to purr in this shape. It has to be at least as possible as playing the piccolo.
"I don't think you're different... You're just..." He tries to figure out how to put it. "You know what I don't know, maybe, so I haven't gone too wrong. Jedao's the same. He knows what it's like to not know things."
John just nods and presses a few kisses into the fur. He's going to take a moment to just love him in the hopes that what he has to say will be softer than it could be.
"But sometimes, people are just angry. There isn't a right thing to say. So it's not that you're saying the wrong thing. They're just angry and it's not your fault. You didn't do or say anything wrong."
There's a little ping of uncertainty, deepened confusion, but John couldn't possibly be doing better in handling this. Edwin stays relaxed on his shoulder, leaning into his hand.
"I don't... think so. Maybe when it's you it's different."
He'll pause and walk over to one of the benches to spend a little more time petting his fur and kissing his little head.
"People have gotten angry at me a lot," he assures him, "and sometimes it's scary or it hurts. But sometimes, there are things underneath all that anger, or hiding behind it. That's how we started to get close, remember?" He sits on the bench and he'll start giving Edwin long, slow strokes, almost hypnotic in their rhythm to encourage him to stay calm and relaxed, "When I chased you into the woods and we talked. You were so angry at me, and I hadn't even talked to you yet. And I did all nice things for you before that, but you were still angry. Other people have that too."
Wait, hang on, give him a second, he can figure out how it still fits. Even if it doesn't seem that important at the moment. He slides off John's shoulder and into his lap, settling there to hum quietly for a few seconds because he hasn't had a chance to work on purring.
Of course, a moment later the answer seems obvious. "But then it was me. I was wrong. When other people are angry, there are reasons, or even if there aren't reasons, if I knew what to say they wouldn't stay angry."
"Not necessarily," he says gently, and now both hands can reach up for ear scratches. Lots of petting. Lots of love. He hasn't done anything wrong.
"You weren't wrong to be angry. You were hurting and angry is the easiest way to express being hurt. And sometimes people are just angry no matter what anyone says. It doesn't make hurting you okay. Or right."
He breathes out gently and one hand goes to petting.
"I would prefer if you didn't worry about saying the 'right' thing to me. For me the right thing is what feels good and true to you, even if you don't think I'll like it as much as something else you might say."
The first pinpricks of anxiety break through as John talks, beginning with his gentle insistence that the base operating principle powering Edwin's social expectations is wrong.
He shifts uncomfortably as John goes on, ears flicking backward and brows pinching in a way that's decidedly more human than feline.
"But..." What if the things he thinks are good or true make John angry, what then? How angry can John get before it starts to break the beautiful things they have? And if those things break-- He doesn't want to think about that. He hunkers in on himself, a turtle-feline-shape, while nervous dread chews away at his nonexistent stomach. "Okay."
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"M..." He stops, remembers the promise he made himself about Arthur, and changes what he was going to say. "Maybe next time there's a... talent show or... something like that, like at Christmas, we can play something."
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"I'd like that. Or we could do a performance for everyone just because we want to."
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"Just because we want to?"
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People post all kinds of bullshit. Why not post something nice that people could enjoy?
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Sure, he's done things because he wanted to, but it was never really planned or on purpose.
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"Why not?"
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"Knowing things. Knowing what I have to say if someone asks me something."
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A pause as he wraps his tail around John's neck lightly to keep his balance as they climb the stairs. "It's... wanting to know things to be safe."
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"Why does knowing things make you more safe?"
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"Because if you know the right things to say people won't hurt you."
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"Where did you learn that?" That's a good path to take. At least, he hope so.
He's going to keep petting him and sending love and warmth and affection so that Edwin doesn't think that he said the wrong thing to him.
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"I don't understand how to answer that." It's just a thing he knows.
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Then, contemplation, while he shifts to perch his chin against John's fingers. Under there please. "Not really. It's just... true. When you say the wrong things, people get angry, and when people get angry, they'll hurt you. When you don't know what they're saying, what they want you to say back. Not everyone all the time, but everybody sometimes. And you don't know if they're going to be in a mood to get angry until you talk to them, so you have to be ready."
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His voice is syrupy and warm as he asks the question he asks.
"So is making people angry what makes something the 'wrong' thing?" A nuzzle. "I don't think I've ever got angry because you said the wrong thing. Am I different?"
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"I don't think you're different... You're just..." He tries to figure out how to put it. "You know what I don't know, maybe, so I haven't gone too wrong. Jedao's the same. He knows what it's like to not know things."
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"But sometimes, people are just angry. There isn't a right thing to say. So it's not that you're saying the wrong thing. They're just angry and it's not your fault. You didn't do or say anything wrong."
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"I don't... think so. Maybe when it's you it's different."
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"People have gotten angry at me a lot," he assures him, "and sometimes it's scary or it hurts. But sometimes, there are things underneath all that anger, or hiding behind it. That's how we started to get close, remember?" He sits on the bench and he'll start giving Edwin long, slow strokes, almost hypnotic in their rhythm to encourage him to stay calm and relaxed, "When I chased you into the woods and we talked. You were so angry at me, and I hadn't even talked to you yet. And I did all nice things for you before that, but you were still angry. Other people have that too."
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Of course, a moment later the answer seems obvious. "But then it was me. I was wrong. When other people are angry, there are reasons, or even if there aren't reasons, if I knew what to say they wouldn't stay angry."
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"You weren't wrong to be angry. You were hurting and angry is the easiest way to express being hurt. And sometimes people are just angry no matter what anyone says. It doesn't make hurting you okay. Or right."
He breathes out gently and one hand goes to petting.
"I would prefer if you didn't worry about saying the 'right' thing to me. For me the right thing is what feels good and true to you, even if you don't think I'll like it as much as something else you might say."
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He shifts uncomfortably as John goes on, ears flicking backward and brows pinching in a way that's decidedly more human than feline.
"But..." What if the things he thinks are good or true make John angry, what then? How angry can John get before it starts to break the beautiful things they have? And if those things break-- He doesn't want to think about that. He hunkers in on himself, a turtle-feline-shape, while nervous dread chews away at his nonexistent stomach. "Okay."
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