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."
And it doesn't take a detective to notice the way he curls in on himself. John will lift him up and kiss all over his fur and on top of his head and hold him close and warm and love him a little more insistently.
Edwin will still be petted and comforted when he's an amorphous blob with fur the same as when he looks like a cat. John will do that for almost a minute before he speaks again.
"Here's the thing, Edwin:" and he looks down at his brother, "you know me better than anyone. We started from the same place, and we've been through a lot of the same things. We're not the same, but you still understand me better than anyone, just like I understand you."
He's going to kiss the top of the blob.
"Do you really think I wouldn't love you for making a mistake? For getting something wrong? Is that the kind of person I've been with you?" He kisses him again. "Or do you just care about me so much that the idea of making a mistake that would make me angry is the scariest thing ever?"
He holds out a hand.
"Which one is really who I am... and which one is your fear?"
After a moment, John's outstretched hand gets a long furry tentacle twining between his fingers. Very quietly, Edwin says, "The second one--I'm afraid of the second one, even if I know it's not... you. I don't know how to stop being afraid."
After a moment, he tries to speak in his head, hoping John can hear him. Just because the rest is too awful to say out loud, too dangerous to voice where someone unwanted might hear.
The Dark World... there's so much pain there. B-But no one was a... friend. No one was... someone you... could keep, or wanted to. No one was family.
It hurt. So much there... hurt. It was worse than anything.
John knows. He knows John knows, entirely too well, for reasons that make him feel sick in spirit.
But being... around people-- around life-- Being around... I didn't know if I said something wrong if I would... get thrown back, at first, when I woke up with Arthur, even though he told me after a little while that he couldn't send me back. And then...
And then he came here, instead of going there, and met this Arthur, and John, and things were so much better, and now pieces of things aren't again. John and Arthur slipped away. John slipped away to that place, because of him. And then they came back together in a different world entirely from Edwin's. He doesn't know what will happen to him if he ever vanishes from the ship. All he saw before the barge and after Arthur started playing the piano was an intermediate darkness. A place between places of some kind.
To be... with someone, with people for the first time in... eons... The idea of... having... so many people close by, and having them hate me...
The Dark World is worse. It will always be worse. But I...
If I'm in a place like this with so many people who could be a friend and I make them all angry at me, then maybe it means I don't belong here after all. Maybe it means I belong there. Maybe it means that I'm not even good enough to be an inmate.
And if I do something that makes you angry at me, or Jedao angry at me, when...
When they're the safest people he knows.
I'm... scared. I don't know how to stop being scared. Whenever I start to forget what it feels like, something happens and I remember why I was scared in the first place.
He's going to lift that furry tentacle up and kiss it. And he's going to keep looking at Edwin, the molten gold of his eyes nothing but warmth and affection. There are times like this, where he's doing his very very best to be gentle, that feel... true. Right. When he feels like he's clicking into place in something he doesn't even remember. Empathizing, listening, loving-
Part of what had been so terrible in the Dark World had been the denial of those things, the memory of turning his back on them even if he hadn't this time, living like that... and the time with Kayne, when he'd been forced to do that very thing.
There's no such thing as living a life like this without it being scary. When people matter, the idea that they might be mad at you or that something might happen to them is always going to come up, because having them in your life and knowing that you make them happy are so important.
But when you change yourself because of that fear, you're not letting them have you in their life. Not the real you. Not you with all the facets you hold and all the special things that are just yours in their life. There's always going to be a barrier between you and them because you aren't trusting them with who you really are and what you really think. And sometimes upsetting them is important for taking care of them!
He's going to kiss him again.
You know that I talked to a few people about how I was feeling after we talked? I did. And I found a way to tell Arthur how beat up I was feeling without telling him the worst of it. I told him what I could, though. And I feel much better.
He tilts his head with a wry smile.
Part of that talk was a fight, because he started pushing me away. But I yelled at him and he yelled at me and we were both angry. But we had to yell at each other to get through what was between us so we could be with each other for real.
He breathes out slow and rubs a little circle in the fur.
It's scary. I'll never say it's not scary. But some things are worth scary things. Some people are worth it. Not everyone; some people are assholes. But the ones you feel safest with. Those people are a good place to start.
You did? He's startled that John talked to people, relieved and glad he talked to Arthur, even if they did fight since it sounds like it ended all right.
But that's just it, isn't it: it ended all right. It ended all right.
Something soft and vicious and Arthur-coded British hisses: It ended all right because it was John.
To John, Edwin says, But... But what happens when they decide you're-- What happens when they find someone better than you are?
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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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"You're scared of that, huh?"
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"Yes."
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"Here's the thing, Edwin:" and he looks down at his brother, "you know me better than anyone. We started from the same place, and we've been through a lot of the same things. We're not the same, but you still understand me better than anyone, just like I understand you."
He's going to kiss the top of the blob.
"Do you really think I wouldn't love you for making a mistake? For getting something wrong? Is that the kind of person I've been with you?" He kisses him again. "Or do you just care about me so much that the idea of making a mistake that would make me angry is the scariest thing ever?"
He holds out a hand.
"Which one is really who I am... and which one is your fear?"
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After a moment, he tries to speak in his head, hoping John can hear him. Just because the rest is too awful to say out loud, too dangerous to voice where someone unwanted might hear.
The Dark World... there's so much pain there. B-But no one was a... friend. No one was... someone you... could keep, or wanted to. No one was family.
It hurt. So much there... hurt. It was worse than anything.
John knows. He knows John knows, entirely too well, for reasons that make him feel sick in spirit.
But being... around people-- around life-- Being around... I didn't know if I said something wrong if I would... get thrown back, at first, when I woke up with Arthur, even though he told me after a little while that he couldn't send me back. And then...
And then he came here, instead of going there, and met this Arthur, and John, and things were so much better, and now pieces of things aren't again. John and Arthur slipped away. John slipped away to that place, because of him. And then they came back together in a different world entirely from Edwin's. He doesn't know what will happen to him if he ever vanishes from the ship. All he saw before the barge and after Arthur started playing the piano was an intermediate darkness. A place between places of some kind.
To be... with someone, with people for the first time in... eons... The idea of... having... so many people close by, and having them hate me...
The Dark World is worse. It will always be worse. But I...
If I'm in a place like this with so many people who could be a friend and I make them all angry at me, then maybe it means I don't belong here after all. Maybe it means I belong there. Maybe it means that I'm not even good enough to be an inmate.
And if I do something that makes you angry at me, or Jedao angry at me, when...
When they're the safest people he knows.
I'm... scared. I don't know how to stop being scared. Whenever I start to forget what it feels like, something happens and I remember why I was scared in the first place.
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Part of what had been so terrible in the Dark World had been the denial of those things, the memory of turning his back on them even if he hadn't this time, living like that... and the time with Kayne, when he'd been forced to do that very thing.
There's no such thing as living a life like this without it being scary. When people matter, the idea that they might be mad at you or that something might happen to them is always going to come up, because having them in your life and knowing that you make them happy are so important.
But when you change yourself because of that fear, you're not letting them have you in their life. Not the real you. Not you with all the facets you hold and all the special things that are just yours in their life. There's always going to be a barrier between you and them because you aren't trusting them with who you really are and what you really think. And sometimes upsetting them is important for taking care of them!
He's going to kiss him again.
You know that I talked to a few people about how I was feeling after we talked? I did. And I found a way to tell Arthur how beat up I was feeling without telling him the worst of it. I told him what I could, though. And I feel much better.
He tilts his head with a wry smile.
Part of that talk was a fight, because he started pushing me away. But I yelled at him and he yelled at me and we were both angry. But we had to yell at each other to get through what was between us so we could be with each other for real.
He breathes out slow and rubs a little circle in the fur.
It's scary. I'll never say it's not scary. But some things are worth scary things. Some people are worth it. Not everyone; some people are assholes. But the ones you feel safest with. Those people are a good place to start.
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But that's just it, isn't it: it ended all right. It ended all right.
Something soft and vicious and
Arthur-codedBritish hisses: It ended all right because it was John.To John, Edwin says, But... But what happens when they decide you're-- What happens when they find someone better than you are?
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Have you ever found someone to be 'better' so you dropped them to be friends with someone else?
Or do people you care about all have different places in your life and you cherish every one?
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He's getting another kiss.
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