["If you give me that, I won't have any choice but to care, right?"]
[Idia knew smooth talkers. He knew people who would rather twist themselves into knots than admit to a bad deal. He knew the way they twisted their words to about liability as much as they could. He did it, too, to escape responsibility for the things he said. Say he does that. Say he puts every bad thing into Cater. Say he tries to isolate him, manipulate him, the way they did in that photo he tore up earlier-]
["I won't have any choice but to care, right?"]
[his hands grip again. He leans forward heavily, less like leaning into the other and more openly relying on him. It's a bit much and while he's trying not to fall he doesn't seem to care if Cater stumbles a bit.]
[his hand drops, and the bloody shard of glass lands on the floor somewhere to the side of their shoes]
... I- ... I don't know if I like you. [he says, forehead now pressed against the other's shoulder]
Sometimes I think- I really hate you- ... after all, I can think of such disgusting things.
[There's no physical pain happening. Except for the pressure of Idia leaning his body weight on Cater he's pulled away all the things he could hurt him with.]
... but you feel it, right? That it hurts?
[A small ache, pounding, as he thought about Cater being forced to care. That the only way it could be given would be if it was taken by force and ripped out of whatever tightly enclosed cocoon it was in.]
... that hurt... m- means... I'm choosing... t- to care.
no subject
[Idia knew smooth talkers. He knew people who would rather twist themselves into knots than admit to a bad deal. He knew the way they twisted their words to about liability as much as they could. He did it, too, to escape responsibility for the things he said. Say he does that. Say he puts every bad thing into Cater. Say he tries to isolate him, manipulate him, the way they did in that photo he tore up earlier-]
["I won't have any choice but to care, right?"]
[his hands grip again. He leans forward heavily, less like leaning into the other and more openly relying on him. It's a bit much and while he's trying not to fall he doesn't seem to care if Cater stumbles a bit.]
[his hand drops, and the bloody shard of glass lands on the floor somewhere to the side of their shoes]
... I- ... I don't know if I like you. [he says, forehead now pressed against the other's shoulder]
Sometimes I think- I really hate you- ... after all, I can think of such disgusting things.
[There's no physical pain happening. Except for the pressure of Idia leaning his body weight on Cater he's pulled away all the things he could hurt him with.]
... but you feel it, right? That it hurts?
[A small ache, pounding, as he thought about Cater being forced to care. That the only way it could be given would be if it was taken by force and ripped out of whatever tightly enclosed cocoon it was in.]
... that hurt... m- means... I'm choosing... t- to care.