mykidisthebest | SPECIAL DISASTER OVERFLOW POST

[awkwardly long pause]

...That's different.

How?!

You care about me.

Try again.

[but Eugene knows him well enough to catch the very faint unhappy tells at the corners of his eyes and mouth as he says it]

[he feels some kind of way about still being able to tell these things about Vincent a decade later]

If...you've moved on...then just say so. We can end things cleanly. But that doesn't mean I'll suddenly stop caring. Or that you will.

You sound very confident about that.

I am. I had ten years to think about it.

[cannot entirely disguise a flinch]

Ten years where I wasn’t in your view.

You're still the same person. With just a little more self-sabotage than I remember.

‘A little’?

I'm trying to be polite, Vincent. You've had a rough day.

If you still know me so well you should know I prefer you rude. It’s more honest.

And I prefer it when you go after what you want instead of acting like you want the opposite. So neither of us is getting what we prefer.

What is it you think I want? What is it you want?

...I think you want to be rid of me, but for some reason you want me to be the one to cut you off.

I know--even though we didn't break up, it's been long enough that you've moved on. You're seeing other people. I can handle that as long as you're not shoving it in my face. But, regardless of the reason, you're the one who left. So I think it's only fair that you be the one to end things cleanly, or not at all.

…is that what’s kept you going for ten years? That sense of—it has to be me? That if you were just patient enough, waited enough, we’d simply be able to pick up where we left off, someday?

Surely it must have been more apparent with every passing year that you’d simply taken up with a bastard.

[shoulders hunching, defensive]

It doesn't have to be you. What makes you think you're so special? As if I haven't seen anyone since you've been gone. I wasn't expecting anything even if I did see you again. I only thought that we could at least be on friendly terms. That you'd tell me why you left.

[

hey how convincingly is he saying that]

[wow how dare you imply he's lying

(he's lying)

it all sounds sincere enough, like he does believe it--or can at least force himself to if it comes to that, which feels inevitable. he can't stop the inevitable, wistful yearning for a scenario in which they reconcile and things go back to how they were, but no part of him truly expects it. Vincent has obviously moved on. but when he mentions seeing other people his eyes flick up and away like they always do when he's lying]

[he wants to weep.

tilts his face up into the next onslaught of the air instead, letting it bleed him rather than protect himself from it]

I’m sorry.

[closes his eyes, because he can't do anything to stop the wind and can't bring himself to watch]

Don't apologize. ...I know why you left. It wasn't for no reason.

[just continues this conversation as he’s cut up again nbd]

What?

[immediately feels like he played his hand too soon; squirms uncomfortably in his seat]

--You did leave without saying anything. And I knew you were stressed about work...Maybe it wasn't the only reason.

[watching him with shuttered, assessing eyes, but

reaches very deep in this moment past the fog of bad impulses and pain and anger and exhaustion, perhaps out of fear, perhaps out of some scattered awareness that he can try to stop the madness, he doesn’t always have to start knocking things over like a bull in a china shop, someone did once teach him how to manage his rage even if they never got to making him want to—]

Don’t bring things up to the light if you’re not prepared to learn something ugly about them.

I don't think it's ugly.

We don't have to talk about it, though. I figured that you didn't want to.

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