A second later, Al notices that tensing up, the sudden look in the boy's face, the way the smile just go strained, and realizes that he thinks Al's going to hurt him -- just like he's been hurt before.
He pulls back, stops touching him, and gives him a steady look.
Blank eyes, fingers tighten, but he only laughs as dismissively as possible.
''Oh, Al,'' he says, lilting. ''I was beloved and well cared for. Please don't worry unnecessarily,'' (don't fucking pity me), ''it makes you look stupid.''
Absolutely nothing about that fools him, and it shows. Alois is a baby compared to manipulators he's known, he's loved, and his whole social network is made of trainwrecks, pain, regrets, guilt, terrible pasts and blood-soaked secrets, PTSD and nightmares, true evil and those who only play at it. Al knows abuse, he knows the cycles, he knows control. What happened to Alois is not the worst thing he's seen, no matter how horrible it is.
But Alois is young, like Al was once, and perhaps many people have fallen for the smiles and pretty words.
But Al won't.
There's nothing like pity in how he looks at him, just a certain numbness, a sense of resignation despite the warmth and affection. Immovable, permanent as a stone.
"... things are different here," is all he would say.
It's unjust to compare traumas. He's ever-terrified, but considers himself no worse off than someone he knows nothing about—it's why, fumbling or otherwise, he strives to appear victimless. Having someone know he's been irrevocably damaged is degrading, in some ways worse.
The way Al looks through him transparently, reading him, I'm scared, I'm scared, I'm not strong, I'm scared—it makes him small, he feels less in control than when bodies, frighteningly larger than his own, crushed him against a mattress or floors.
Something he's been familiar with even before nine, and unshackled from the constance of it not until eleven. Wouldn't it have been kinder for them to have killed him? He's had too many partners. He could have a disease in him, now, unknowingly. And, a child who has only known sex and violence as human contact cannot compare the unreasonable hells someone else has withstood to his own soul and body. For a child, too small, too powerless, there is nothing worse.
''Why do you want to look after me? Luca? To feel better about yourself? Because for as insufferable as I can be, I'm nice to look at? You look tired. Why not throw me out? Wolves are hungrier in the winter.''
"... because even if I don't know what you went through, I sometimes wish someone had been there for me at your age."
It was just a small crack in the armor, a tiny vulnerability, but he let Alois see it, knowing he could hurt him with it.
"Because I know what it's like to live on, when the person you love the most is taken from you. I know pain and I know being powerless and I know -- having to be so much older than you are. And it's not fair. It's not fair, it's not right, and I don't want you to be alone."
Why is this so painfully unexpected? He learns of Al's goodness everyday, and even as he let words tumble from his mouth with the intent of hurting, he wished he could suck them back in before a sliver of damage could be made. He's a breathing contradiction.
His eyes well up and up. They stay wide, too, when tears do finally fall out of them, and though his mouth is subtly ajar, he keeps his breath in.
His eyes snap shut, tightly, and his mouth presses into a line. First, his frightened, uncertain hands cling severely to the edge of the counter, but then those newly bandaged things come up to cradle Al's own hands.
''I couldn't blame you,'' he says, weeping in the quietest way of it. ''I am a tiring thing. I know it. See, I couldn't at all blame you if you did feed me to wolves.''
It had made him nervous, but he doesn't want to say that aloud, doesn't want to be a gossamer thing for Al's viewing. Although, he is, must be, unintentionally as he's taken too long to say anything and goes on softly swinging his legs.
”That sort of kissing. It's for a mum or dad and a baby. ...Isn't it?”
Such a strange thing, having to pick it apart from his usual ideas when it pertained to elements like lips and skin. Perfectly innocent, perfectly unsoiled. What an ache it gives him, and he picks with a scabbed fingernail at the edge of the counter top.
”Or, how I kiss Luca because he's my very own.” He tilts forward slightly, peering at him.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2012-11-13 06:41 am (UTC)The boy's fingers clench his shorts, resisting the urge to sensually bite his own lip, ruin more tiny fingernails, or yank Al's hair.
He smiles back, too sweetly.
''O—kay.''
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Date: 2012-11-13 06:45 am (UTC)He pulls back, stops touching him, and gives him a steady look.
"... I'm not like them."
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Date: 2012-11-13 06:48 am (UTC)A prickly question posed in innocent curiosity.
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Date: 2012-11-13 06:49 am (UTC)Unflinching.
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Date: 2012-11-13 06:55 am (UTC)''Oh, Al,'' he says, lilting. ''I was beloved and well cared for. Please don't worry unnecessarily,'' (don't fucking pity me), ''it makes you look stupid.''
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Date: 2012-11-13 07:05 am (UTC)But Alois is young, like Al was once, and perhaps many people have fallen for the smiles and pretty words.
But Al won't.
There's nothing like pity in how he looks at him, just a certain numbness, a sense of resignation despite the warmth and affection. Immovable, permanent as a stone.
"... things are different here," is all he would say.
no subject
Date: 2012-11-13 07:31 am (UTC)The way Al looks through him transparently, reading him, I'm scared, I'm scared, I'm not strong, I'm scared—it makes him small, he feels less in control than when bodies, frighteningly larger than his own, crushed him against a mattress or floors.
Something he's been familiar with even before nine, and unshackled from the constance of it not until eleven. Wouldn't it have been kinder for them to have killed him? He's had too many partners. He could have a disease in him, now, unknowingly. And, a child who has only known sex and violence as human contact cannot compare the unreasonable hells someone else has withstood to his own soul and body. For a child, too small, too powerless, there is nothing worse.
''Why do you want to look after me? Luca? To feel better about yourself? Because for as insufferable as I can be, I'm nice to look at? You look tired. Why not throw me out? Wolves are hungrier in the winter.''
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Date: 2012-11-13 07:37 am (UTC)It was just a small crack in the armor, a tiny vulnerability, but he let Alois see it, knowing he could hurt him with it.
"Because I know what it's like to live on, when the person you love the most is taken from you. I know pain and I know being powerless and I know -- having to be so much older than you are. And it's not fair. It's not fair, it's not right, and I don't want you to be alone."
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Date: 2012-11-13 07:46 am (UTC)His eyes well up and up. They stay wide, too, when tears do finally fall out of them, and though his mouth is subtly ajar, he keeps his breath in.
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Date: 2012-11-14 05:17 am (UTC)"... will you accept that?"
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Date: 2012-11-15 04:49 am (UTC)''I couldn't blame you,'' he says, weeping in the quietest way of it. ''I am a tiring thing. I know it. See, I couldn't at all blame you if you did feed me to wolves.''
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Date: 2012-11-15 06:14 am (UTC)Al rubs his thumbs against the unhurt parts of his hands. "I will never, ever give up on you."
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Date: 2012-11-15 06:27 am (UTC)''My birthday came. It was May still, back home. It wouldn't come for some months, but here I'm already older. Not that I feel any.''
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Date: 2012-11-15 06:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-15 06:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-15 06:39 am (UTC)... he only looks sixteen.
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Date: 2012-11-15 06:49 am (UTC)''Maybe eighteen.''
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Date: 2012-11-15 06:55 am (UTC)"It's true. It's a long story, but it's true. So don't you fuss about not looking older."
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Date: 2012-11-16 05:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-16 06:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-16 07:19 am (UTC)''Al. I didn't hate it, not so very much. When you put your lips on my head.'' This bit is shyly wary, and his eyes are on the floor.
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Date: 2012-11-16 07:02 pm (UTC)"Is it that it startled you? Or did it make you nervous?"
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Date: 2012-11-18 07:51 am (UTC)”That sort of kissing. It's for a mum or dad and a baby. ...Isn't it?”
Such a strange thing, having to pick it apart from his usual ideas when it pertained to elements like lips and skin. Perfectly innocent, perfectly unsoiled. What an ache it gives him, and he picks with a scabbed fingernail at the edge of the counter top.
”Or, how I kiss Luca because he's my very own.” He tilts forward slightly, peering at him.
”I'm older, but I'm not any wiser, am I?”
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Date: 2012-11-18 07:56 am (UTC)He nudges him though, almost playful, and very fond.
"You're getting there. Don't worry, you know that you're getting wise when you realize just how much you have to learn."
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Date: 2012-11-18 08:06 am (UTC)... Oh, whoops!
He hasn't been anyone's baby, not like Luca is his, in too, too long, and—
'That was the way I meant it,' Al had just said.
Alois looks at him, now, like a stupid thing. Clutching in his breath, saline turning Al into a mosaic under a pond's surface.
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