He's starting to feel overwhelmed again, but in an entirely new direction. There's a connection being made that he can't articulate yet, but he's getting there.
And all the things we're talking about. They make you feel good and happy. They help you connect with people. And none of them hurt anyone. They make other people happy too. Yes?
As soon as he's set down from the headkiss, he's going to snug himself underneath John's chin. It's probably a good thing they don't need to breathe.
He's a steady swirl of overlapped feelings that change speedily enough that Edwin doesn't bother trying to puzzle them all out. His psyche is spinning around that revelation, or rather the realization.
I get to choose. The statement is borderline experimental. It's not a box someone made that I need to fit. I get to choose.
A pause, one that's not long enough for John to interject yet.
And all the times Arthur was so-- angry that I wasn't you, he was grieving the person he tried to save, the person he made a promise to, the person whose choices made you happy together. O-or maybe not happy all the time, but the person whose choices helped him feel... whole. Grieving-- Grieving the person who spoke his heart's language.
He thought he'd forgiven Arthur already, and maybe he had, but for the first time it feels like something else has been lifted off his shoulders too.
I never-- I never got to tell you that I picked a surname. Right before the breach. I forgot to mention it after, with... everything.
Anxiety hums through him, that familiar sense that something important is about to be put at risk, and he realizes choosing might be simple, but it also might be far from easy.
B...
Buck.
I-I'll probably use Cho, too, because I think that would make Jedao and Hakkai happy but-- I wanted... I wanted one that was... mine. J-Just mine.
He's going to run his hand along the little fox back, up and down, soothing.
It's a good name.
Very very fond.
Did I tell you that my name was John Hart in one breach? I've considered using that one day, since John Doe has certain connotations in the mortal world. Maybe when I feel like I'm ready for it. Names can be... powerful that way.
I like that, John Hart. JD Hart. The D can stand for something. Don't people have 'middle' names, too?
A pause.
I didn't really... think about it, when I picked Edwin. It didn't mean much to me at the time, but it was something that wasn't 'Yellow.' It was something that didn't hurt to hear.
I don't think...
Before now, before right now, I don't think I ever thought about what I actually want, for me. I always think about... what will make people happy with me, because I'm happy when they're happy with me.
Or maybe happy isn't the right word.
I'm... relieved, I can relax, when people are happy with me.
...Except when I get angry enough to forget it matters.
He isn't mocking him with that; he means every word. The amount that his own happiness depends on that of those around him is significant. It's also just hard to see a better thing to do than make them feel good.
It took me a while too. Thinking about a future beyond that is hard even without other people.
He's not sure what to say, right away. His first reaction is a snap of resentment and jealousy. It's a reminder of how powerless he is, how much more powerless he'll be when the Dreamlands fade from the barge.
He wants it to heal. He also... doesn't. He wants it to be over.
It's very, very strange to have the sudden wish to talk to Arthur. Someone who understands that feeling.
Who showed you?
Information buys time, knowledge always matters--Larson proved him right on that one, at least.
Because how many things like them get injured? How many beings like them get torn apart? There's no books or spells to teach that. He learned how to heal by healing.
He looks, or directs his attention, or whatever you want to call 'watching' in the space they share. He's not enthusiastic about it, but he's doing as he's told.
He'll focus down on a little crack of gray, clearly just a spot that's in the end of it's cycle. Edwin can probably see and feel and hear the memories he's drawing on to make the area around it bright and molten and golden. And slowly, they roll over the gray mark and the feeling of something patched fades.
It's the two of them watching Hogfather for Christmas.
Oh. That-- doesn't hurt, exactly, no. That's not the right word. It aches, though. It makes him feel... Lonely is the wrong word, too. He feels strange and cut off from the warmth of the memory, like it's something behind a gelatinous, shifting barrier that will drown him if he tries to push through it. Like he's a ghost watching a better version of himself live the life that got taken away.
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He's starting to feel overwhelmed again, but in an entirely new direction. There's a connection being made that he can't articulate yet, but he's getting there.
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A pause, then all at once:
It can't be that simple though. It can't be that simple. It's that simple?
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There's a harder part. But making the decision? Yup.
That simple.
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Oh.
Sorry he's still shooketh.
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He's not going to say anything, but John's very clearly content to let him work it through a few times.
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He's a steady swirl of overlapped feelings that change speedily enough that Edwin doesn't bother trying to puzzle them all out. His psyche is spinning around that revelation, or rather the realization.
I get to choose. The statement is borderline experimental. It's not a box someone made that I need to fit. I get to choose.
A pause, one that's not long enough for John to interject yet.
And all the times Arthur was so-- angry that I wasn't you, he was grieving the person he tried to save, the person he made a promise to, the person whose choices made you happy together. O-or maybe not happy all the time, but the person whose choices helped him feel... whole. Grieving-- Grieving the person who spoke his heart's language.
He thought he'd forgiven Arthur already, and maybe he had, but for the first time it feels like something else has been lifted off his shoulders too.
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This time there's more lightness to the statement, a borderline wonder.
That's really-- That's really it?
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That's the biggest part. What... guides everything else. The shape that you fill in.
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Anxiety hums through him, that familiar sense that something important is about to be put at risk, and he realizes choosing might be simple, but it also might be far from easy.
B...
Buck.
I-I'll probably use Cho, too, because I think that would make Jedao and Hakkai happy but-- I wanted... I wanted one that was... mine. J-Just mine.
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It's a good name.
Very very fond.
Did I tell you that my name was John Hart in one breach? I've considered using that one day, since John Doe has certain connotations in the mortal world. Maybe when I feel like I'm ready for it. Names can be... powerful that way.
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A pause.
I didn't really... think about it, when I picked Edwin. It didn't mean much to me at the time, but it was something that wasn't 'Yellow.' It was something that didn't hurt to hear.
I don't think...
Before now, before right now, I don't think I ever thought about what I actually want, for me. I always think about... what will make people happy with me, because I'm happy when they're happy with me.
Or maybe happy isn't the right word.
I'm... relieved, I can relax, when people are happy with me.
...Except when I get angry enough to forget it matters.
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He isn't mocking him with that; he means every word. The amount that his own happiness depends on that of those around him is significant. It's also just hard to see a better thing to do than make them feel good.
It took me a while too. Thinking about a future beyond that is hard even without other people.
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Larson-- Being with Larson felt like that. It made me remember feeling like that.
...Richter made me feel it and...
It didn't make me feel better, hurting him. I wanted it to make me feel better.
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He's quiet for a moment because he doesn't want to make it worse.
I learned how to heal. I can show you how to help it go faster.
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He wants it to heal. He also... doesn't. He wants it to be over.
It's very, very strange to have the sudden wish to talk to Arthur. Someone who understands that feeling.
Who showed you?
Information buys time, knowledge always matters--Larson proved him right on that one, at least.
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I had to find a way myself.
Because how many things like them get injured? How many beings like them get torn apart? There's no books or spells to teach that. He learned how to heal by healing.
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He can figure it out. He can do it himself, too.
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A pause before-
It's something I can do to help.
Can I?
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He stops himself. John can still feel it, the soft edge of resentment, the bitterness of weakness, the shame of ignorance.
Yellow stops himself, because his brother wants to help. John asks him for so fucking little.
Okay.
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And he does ask for so very little. There are times to cash that in and this feels like one of them.
For a lot of reasons.
Watch here. I still have a few spots left.
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It's the two of them watching Hogfather for Christmas.
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What kind of memories work?
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