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An immediate scoff. "Byerly," Bene groans: it's the name that's already plaguing his own personal distress. "What's even to sort out?"
He pauses.
"Well. Not that Loki's..." He trails off, and glances furtively at Colin.
"Don't tell her I said that."
He pauses.
"Well. Not that Loki's..." He trails off, and glances furtively at Colin.
"Don't tell her I said that."
A soft chuckle.
"I won't. I agree. They make each other miserable. I've never seen them come away from each other happy. It's...hard to see it. How he'd rather be miserable his whole life than be with her for a single second. She deserves better than that."
"I won't. I agree. They make each other miserable. I've never seen them come away from each other happy. It's...hard to see it. How he'd rather be miserable his whole life than be with her for a single second. She deserves better than that."
"I think he'd just rather be miserable, period," Benedict says, in a bit of a sulk, but he seems to catch himself in it and looks briefly uncertain.
"...she does deserve better, doesn't she. Better than either, but what can you do."
"...she does deserve better, doesn't she. Better than either, but what can you do."
"And he wants to be sure everyone else is miserable with him," Bene mutters, but rolls his eyes and lets that be the end of it.
"It's just, I don't know. He's the worst kind of person in Minrathous, which..." He laughs weakly, "...which I know because I wanted to be just like him. But maybe he's changed."
"It's just, I don't know. He's the worst kind of person in Minrathous, which..." He laughs weakly, "...which I know because I wanted to be just like him. But maybe he's changed."
"He's a martyr. In a pretty terrible way. I can't...I can't do that kind of friendship. I can't go to someone begging for them to keep being my friend because they've decided they are too hurt by my problems. I don't make friends easily, but I can't...I can't do that."
This is a bit surprising to hear, and Bene looks askance at Colin, pausing with a fork half lifted to his mouth (because they're eating and we just didn't mention it before now, GO TEAM).
"When did that happen?"
"When did that happen?"
"I talked about that. Um. Though we were..." He makes a motion of smoking a joint. "Anyway. When I told him I tried to kill myself, he got really angry and said he'd never forgive anyone who tried to hurt me, not even me. That's why we're not friends anymore."
"Oh." That's right, he did know this.
Furrowing his brow, Benedict thinks on the information, at least glad he's sober for it this time. He opens his mouth and closes it several times, then shakes his head.
"I guess I've got no room to talk," he mutters, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and looking down at his bowl.
"I don't know how I'd have reacted. But." He glances up furtively. "I'm glad you're still here."
Furrowing his brow, Benedict thinks on the information, at least glad he's sober for it this time. He opens his mouth and closes it several times, then shakes his head.
"I guess I've got no room to talk," he mutters, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and looking down at his bowl.
"I don't know how I'd have reacted. But." He glances up furtively. "I'm glad you're still here."
This yields something of a thousand-yard stare from Bene, who takes another bite and chews it while looking off into the distance.
"Am I?" he asks faintly, worried.
"Am I?" he asks faintly, worried.
Colin never likes seeing that stare. His brow furrows a little.
"You're more thoughtful," he says. "I mean, you're still you, but a better version. Before, you wouldn't have stopped talking about yourself to ask me what's wrong." He hesitates. "I mean, sometimes...but you're more aware. And you seem to find it important to keep getting better. That's what makes someone a good person, is wanting to keep getting better. It can...feel? Sometimes? Like our friendship is a bit one-sided, but I think that's my fault. I don't really talk about things. I just make people make me talk about things, and that's...not good."
"You're more thoughtful," he says. "I mean, you're still you, but a better version. Before, you wouldn't have stopped talking about yourself to ask me what's wrong." He hesitates. "I mean, sometimes...but you're more aware. And you seem to find it important to keep getting better. That's what makes someone a good person, is wanting to keep getting better. It can...feel? Sometimes? Like our friendship is a bit one-sided, but I think that's my fault. I don't really talk about things. I just make people make me talk about things, and that's...not good."
Even as Colin talks, Bene slowly lowers his face into his hands. It's not a despairing gesture like it can be; between the comparisons of now and then, and the fact that Colin is still reassuring him, he's suddenly overwhelmed by shame.
"Maker," he groans, "the way I've treated people."
"Maker," he groans, "the way I've treated people."
It's very, very hard to argue with that. Benedict has sometimes been terrible. There's a reason they weren't friends until recently. But seeing the struggle, seeing the slow trudge toward change, has been heartbreakingly beautiful, even healing. Colin reaches out for Bene's hand, only to halt and change his mind, afraid it is too much affection.
"Most people like you don't get to this point," he says quietly. "I mean, rich people, nobles, all get taught somehow that the world owes them everything, and because they benefit from that way of thinking and acting, they don't change. You're changing. Not because you benefit from it, but because you care about how you affect other people. That's something."
"Most people like you don't get to this point," he says quietly. "I mean, rich people, nobles, all get taught somehow that the world owes them everything, and because they benefit from that way of thinking and acting, they don't change. You're changing. Not because you benefit from it, but because you care about how you affect other people. That's something."
"It's something," Bene mutters, lowering his hands to look down at his bowl with a grimace instead.
"How does someone even begin to make that right?" He picks up his fork again and stirs the remnants around, his appetite gone.
"Even if I had a sending crystal, or wrote notes, or... no one would want to hear it. And I think they'd be right."
"How does someone even begin to make that right?" He picks up his fork again and stirs the remnants around, his appetite gone.
"Even if I had a sending crystal, or wrote notes, or... no one would want to hear it. And I think they'd be right."
Edited 2020-08-28 20:52 (UTC)
"The only way you're going to make anything up to anyone is actions, not words. Anyone can say words. But being genuinely thoughtful? Making a real effort not because you're expecting absolution, but because that's the right thing to do. 'Cause trying to get peoples' forgiveness is still self-serving. That's why people wouldn't want to hear it."
Taking in Colin's words, Benedict nods silently, his head making a slow descent towards the table until his forehead is resting on it. His shiny black hair curtains his face perfectly.
"It's going to take so lonnng," comes a whine from beneath the hair.
Still looking miserable, Bene finally lifts his head enough that he can rest his chin on the table instead, folding himself over completely with his arms crossed at his middle.
"What's the next step?" he mumbles, "licking Byerly's boots?"
"What's the next step?" he mumbles, "licking Byerly's boots?"
Though he rolls his eyes, Benedict nods again (which is difficult to do with one's chin on a table) and simply lays his head down, because now he's here and it seems like the thing to do.
"Anyway." He pushes his bowl away, so he's not staring at it. "Are you still going to live in Alexandrie's house while she's away?"
"Anyway." He pushes his bowl away, so he's not staring at it. "Are you still going to live in Alexandrie's house while she's away?"
“Um. I don’t live with her, she lives in her husband’s house. She just offered to lend me the flat she had with her sister because I, um. Was. Having difficulty living in the Gallows because it used to be a Circle.”
A somewhat embarrassed widening of his eyes.
A somewhat embarrassed widening of his eyes.
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