gluttoning | SATURDAY NIGHT FOOTBALL (The World)

[Some of the comments sting - it's not Tylor's fault, he can't know what hasn't been told to him. But, oddly enough, he finds himself following Tylor's winding reasoning. A simplicity and frankness to it that makes sense, even if his emotions fight it.]

...

You still think all that? Even with how I was treating you while Morgan was...

[Gone. Not dead, not missing, because Tylor had been right to doubt that. But the void had been there, and that tense and awkward interaction into the grassy fields had still happened with their hearts both raw and their emotions in two separate zip codes.

...]

I wish I could understand you better. Hani, too. But...

It's hard. And I feel bad, sometimes. Like I can't keep up with how you feel or think.

[His eyes drop back to the sharpie, the paper that blooms color from his own stopped hand.]

...Maybe that's my fault, though

I do still think all of that, right now and back then. It's your heart that matters to me, and you've got a sweet one that deserves to be happy. So how could I get mad when I knew you were hurting? We both missed him a lot, didn't we?

[ Tylor shakes his head at Bear's last line. ]

Communication takes effort both ways, so it's never anyone's fault on their own. So don't worry about keeping up, just remember we like being around you as you are. Just be yourself.

Hani and I are, we're used to people thinking we're too much, it's alright.

Oh, but if you ever really want to know anything, you can ask us. Answering your questions is always fun.

[ A little laugh, ending on a joke because he knows he was probably proving his point about being Too Much just now. A joke, but too soft-- ]

You know.. it's sort of funny actually. I've been trying to get better at explaining stuff like this. How am I doing? Any better?

...Mn. I still said some really nasty things to you, though. I think... it might have felt better, in a way, to know you could have been mad at me. Being hurt doesn't mean I deserved to act like that, or that you deserved to just take it.

You were hurting, too.

[And it's that lack of feeling a connection that is the most frustrating part of Tylor, he thinks. Where they skirt understanding and, when Barrett thinks he might have it, Tylor swerves again to a frame of mind Barrett can't follow... Like trying to keep an air-filled ball underwater for a few moments to acknowledge the possible leaks, when all it wants is to float.]

...I don't know that I'd call you guys too much. It just... doesn't always make sense to me, the way you both choose to feel.

[Still, he can't ignore Tylor has changed since they first met. He feels there's at least some bits and pieces to hold onto now, even if they're slippery. So he gives a careful nod.]

A little. I've noticed you're trying harder. Saying more and insisting a little less.

I'm not good at thinking of questions to ask, though.

I still don't think I understand that part. Why do people expect me to be so mad all the time? Does not crying or not getting mad make the rest of my feelings matter less?

[ There's no heat in it, just innocent curiosity that drifts. ]

But I'm not choosing, I'm not even trying to not be mad. I can just, usually understand why people might do things.

[ Tylor squeezes his hand at that, not caring about the color thats probably blotting his own palm. ] Thanks. Then I'll keep trying.

Oh, but let's see--how about: what's something you've always wanted to ask someone but never have? Can be anything.

Edited 2023-09-25 04:56 (UTC)

...Did someone tell you that? That your other feelings matter less?

[He wouldn't say that in the slightest. It's not that he should or shouldn't feel certain ways. It's that he doesn't seem to feel anything BUT one way about everything, no matter the context, that makes him concerning.

Was there something out there that could be called "being too happy"? Barrett doesn't know. He's too tired to think about it. But he has to wonder if they'd look an awful lot like Tylor.]

...I don't know. Just 'cause you understand doesn't mean you just stop feeling things. Maybe being patient is just easier for you?

[It's well out of what he has the mental depth for, though. He's exhausted and on painkillers, and already doesn't know what to do with this conversation.

The distraction of a question suggestion is heavily welcomed, though he looks a little overwhelmed at the request for a moment.]

I... I don't really know. I ask a lot of things when they come to mind. And that's a lot of people...

Not in so many words. Maybe I am too patient, but is that such a bad thing? Being angry isn't very much fun either.

[ But Tylor is all smiles when he thinks of his next idea-- ]

Okay then, pretend you have to pick a question to diffuse a big bomb. What's the first one you think of asking me?

[ Tylor waits a beat, then starts counting down in a whisper from ten. ]

Nine, eight...

It's not. But I think it's important sometimes. I wouldn't be able to protect my family if I couldn't feel angry.

I think... it's just a way we tell ourselves we're not ready to accept something.

[It's quiet, the way the statement rolls out, glancing at his leg in an almost sullen way before Tylor immediately grabs his attention.]

Wait, what-- [Oh, but there's a timer. His eyes frantically flit to his lap in thought.]

Uh... mmm...

[Four, three--]

What did you want to be the most when you were a kid?

Maybe you're right. But... I think I'd give up pretty much anything for the people I care about.

I don't think I'd be angry though. [ A shrug. ] things can hurt, but I don't really know how to be that mad.

[ But then he's counting and Bear is attempting a question. Tylor gives him a big smile for it, answer coming without much thought-- ]

An astronaut.

[ A little laugh, this time he remembers to muffle it. ]

See? That wasn't so hard, was it? You can ask me anything, and I'll answer you.

[ With that, he turns back to the cast, with one last parting squeeze of his hand. Settling careful against him again, looking down at his handiwork and choosing from the colors he'd grabbed. A hum, a beat, and he offers up-- ]

My dad was one.

...I don't think you should have to. People that love you wouldn't want you to give up anything unless it was bad for you. But... I get it. [The loved ones always come first. Even to personal detriment.

Barrett lets Tylor return to his work, looking down at the flooded ink of a mess his own picture had become. Mn. Should he even continue? It feels like a waste not to...

He tries to pick out another color, taking his time, watching the ink stain on his own palms change shape as he works.]

Is that why you wanted to be one? To be like your dad?

SATURDAY NIGHT FOOTBALL (The World)

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