[ it's not scolding, it's something much worse. a compliment, wrapped in gentle chiding, like something soft and familiar and cozy. oushi might have bristled from the sound of it, if it didn't flood him with such a strange sort of warmth that feels a little like bile wanting to project itself right out of his mouth. what the hell is that, anyway? feeling so good you want to throw up? that's not real life. ]
...I think you're just a really good person, and I got lucky.
[ and maybe they can just agree to disagree, and leave it at that. neither one content to take credit for this unlikely friendship, which has been a very fortunate thing, at least on oushi's part, however accidental it might have been. ]
Try not to put so much responsibility on yourself.
[ he imagines choso is very strong and very capable. but it's still a lot to carry all alone, isn't it? that's what oushi thinks, anyway. ]
I get it, though. Wanting to protect what's precious.
[ even if the person in question isn't specifically precious to choso himself, but oushi has begun to understand that the man's altruism is a vast and possibly even endless thing.
(thinking in those terms, it becomes much easier to swallow the way words like like you make him feel.) ]
Mmm. ( a soft nod of his chin, as though in acknowledgement--because who wouldn't want to try to protect what's precious, right? it's at least one thing he thinks that humans, and creatures like him, can understand; then again, he's not sure a curse is really capable of protecting anything but itself.
his fingers clench, folded into his lap, flexing around each other like he might crack his knuckles, pull his fingers out of their sockets, or worry his skin raw; any of those would be viable, given how he locks his hands together. )
I'm not a good person, but it feels good that you think so.
( a short swallow. )
I would like it, if you thought so. If you kept thinking so. It's something important to you, right? To...people.
Being good. Having good people around them.
( it's something human, something that he wants for himself; it's hard to say whether oushi's just being nice to him, and maybe it's a little fruitless, wanting to be recognized by him, or wanting to be important. is that something he should be ashamed of? embarrassed of? friendship isn't anything like that.
so then why worry about it? what's driving that feeling, inside of him? )
I want you to think I'm decent, at the very least.
[ oushi, out of respect for choso's muddling through his thoughts, keeps his eyes rooted firmly on the laces of his shoes. by the end of it, he's stared so hard at them, he's a little surprised they haven't just burst into flames. ]
It's a lot of work, to be good. I'm still trying to figure it out myself.
[ no, he hasn't killed people. he hasn't even hit a person, not once ever in his life.
but he's hurt people. and some hurts can be worse than death. ]
I think... [ hm. ] I think for most people, it's enough that people are good to them.
Maybe you don't have to worry so much about how much good you're doing, in general. Maybe it's just enough you find people who make you want to be good, and that you're good to them. Maybe sometimes it's okay to keep your world small.
[ he lapses into an awkward silence, finding himself in that mortifying after-moment of hearing his own words repeating on loop. he shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie, suddenly wishing the garment were ten times bigger and thus far more capable of swallowing him up whole. ]
You're good to me. I'm not very good at showing it, but — I appreciate it. A lot.
( a part of him thinks that his world is small--maybe too small, too focused, maybe that had been the problem to begin with. living or dying by the whims of his family, or rather, the whims of what might be done to his family; he had been good to them, or tried to be, and had ended up messing all that up, too. it feels like repentance that he'll never be able to successfully complete; it feels like he has to constantly prove himself worthy of being in this world, now, of being treated like a human.
even if he still isn't regarded like that, especially by gojou satoru.
there's a faint shake of his head, as though to absolve oushi of any burden--or embarrassment--he might feel, saying that; it feels good, but only because he's grateful that oushi feels protected enough, or looked after enough, to recognize and appreciate it, even just a little. )
...You say that, as though other people wouldn't be good to you.
( it's just a gentle observation, rooted in his gaze down at his hands. )
You deserve to be looked after and taken care of. There's nothing wrong with you. You make me want to be good, so you'll think I'm good. That...
Mmm. ( there's a bashful breath, through his nose, and one of his hands lifts, rubbing idly at the bridge of it, like he might turn a little pink otherwise. ) I enjoy having the privilege to look after you, a little.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
...I think you're just a really good person, and I got lucky.
[ and maybe they can just agree to disagree, and leave it at that. neither one content to take credit for this unlikely friendship, which has been a very fortunate thing, at least on oushi's part, however accidental it might have been. ]
Try not to put so much responsibility on yourself.
[ he imagines choso is very strong and very capable. but it's still a lot to carry all alone, isn't it? that's what oushi thinks, anyway. ]
I get it, though. Wanting to protect what's precious.
[ even if the person in question isn't specifically precious to choso himself, but oushi has begun to understand that the man's altruism is a vast and possibly even endless thing.
(thinking in those terms, it becomes much easier to swallow the way words like like you make him feel.) ]
no subject
his fingers clench, folded into his lap, flexing around each other like he might crack his knuckles, pull his fingers out of their sockets, or worry his skin raw; any of those would be viable, given how he locks his hands together. )
I'm not a good person, but it feels good that you think so.
( a short swallow. )
I would like it, if you thought so. If you kept thinking so. It's something important to you, right? To...people.
Being good. Having good people around them.
( it's something human, something that he wants for himself; it's hard to say whether oushi's just being nice to him, and maybe it's a little fruitless, wanting to be recognized by him, or wanting to be important. is that something he should be ashamed of? embarrassed of? friendship isn't anything like that.
so then why worry about it? what's driving that feeling, inside of him? )
I want you to think I'm decent, at the very least.
no subject
It's a lot of work, to be good. I'm still trying to figure it out myself.
[ no, he hasn't killed people. he hasn't even hit a person, not once ever in his life.
but he's hurt people. and some hurts can be worse than death. ]
I think... [ hm. ] I think for most people, it's enough that people are good to them.
Maybe you don't have to worry so much about how much good you're doing, in general. Maybe it's just enough you find people who make you want to be good, and that you're good to them. Maybe sometimes it's okay to keep your world small.
[ he lapses into an awkward silence, finding himself in that mortifying after-moment of hearing his own words repeating on loop. he shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie, suddenly wishing the garment were ten times bigger and thus far more capable of swallowing him up whole. ]
You're good to me. I'm not very good at showing it, but — I appreciate it. A lot.
no subject
even if he still isn't regarded like that, especially by gojou satoru.
there's a faint shake of his head, as though to absolve oushi of any burden--or embarrassment--he might feel, saying that; it feels good, but only because he's grateful that oushi feels protected enough, or looked after enough, to recognize and appreciate it, even just a little. )
...You say that, as though other people wouldn't be good to you.
( it's just a gentle observation, rooted in his gaze down at his hands. )
You deserve to be looked after and taken care of. There's nothing wrong with you. You make me want to be good, so you'll think I'm good. That...
Mmm. ( there's a bashful breath, through his nose, and one of his hands lifts, rubbing idly at the bridge of it, like he might turn a little pink otherwise. ) I enjoy having the privilege to look after you, a little.