I want him to get mad at me, really mad at me, like he wants to, so it can be over and we can both know that-- that-- even if we get that kind of angry it...
No, that's not it either, quite, because if it was then when John said fuck you it wouldn't have felt the way it did.
"I don't know," he says, softly panicked. "I don't know what I wanted and I don't know how to stop being mad when-- when-- when it's like you said. I don't want to be mad. I hate being mad at John, because most of the time he's right and it's not even mad it's something else."
He's starting to ramble now, but he stops abruptly and all he can think of is that poem, that poem from forever ago.
Isn't that love? Not being able to see the explosion even though you are the one holding the bomb, and the bomb is also you?
You aren't the bomb. I think love can be a lot of different things. And sometimes love is leaning together in the broken stones and picking shrapnel out of each other.
Why do you think he wants to really get mad at you?
Well, you're hurt and angry now. And you stormed off and turned an empty room into splinters and didn't do any of the sorts of things the King would do.
He drops another little kiss on the top of Edwin's head.
Generally it is not a great idea to try to blow things up to prove things one way or the other. Or to...try to get into a fight when you aren't really sure what you want from it. It's unfair to the other person, and it's a great way to - well, get a lot of things you don't want, after all. But having fights - even really painful ones - that's something lots of people do, and still love each other. Hell, Arthur and I had three or four serious blow-outs before we managed to be any kind of friends at all.
The last time you got furiously angry and fucked something up, you tortured a man. This time you had kind of a normal fight where you yelled at your brother and maybe neither of you did a great job listening to each other very well. Try to...think about that. Those two things are very not the same. You've learned and grown and come a really long way, actually. I'm proud of you.
And...I don't think he thinks you're like the King, he admits, honestly. But whatever is going on with him, when he looks at you like that, it hurts you. So I'm going to figure out what it is, and how to fix it.
Jedao wraps his arms around the sudden much-expanded figure of his son, and squeezes tight.
"There there, baby. That's alright. That's my good boy," he murmurs into Edwin's hair, nonsensically except that maybe Edwin can finally here it. The edge of the table is probably digging into Edwin's back and eventually Jedao's thighs are going to go numb, but he doesn't care.
He isn't sure how long he cries. Eventually it starts to fade, peters out into that hiccuped sort of breathing where a person isn't calm but isn't broken either.
"I wanted-- I wanted it to matter that I was upset. I wanted it to matter that I was upset, I just wanted him to tell me that it mattered that I was upset."
"Oh, Sunshine," Jedao says softly, still holding him tight. "That's a very - fair thing to want. And sometimes a hard request to hear, when someone you love is angry with you. I'm sorry it worked out that he couldn't hear it, over everything else."
He already does, Edwin thinks, but quietly enough that it's not really a thought to be shared. He already does, he just doesn't know that he does, and when he realizes it--
Yeah he's going to shift enough that he won't crush his dad--shift in Jedao's lap, shift himself to be lighter and a little shorter--and then just keep crying on his shoulder for a little bit.
Jedao lets him sob and sniffle for a while, letting himself get comfortable with the warm, precious weight of his boy.
When Edwin is starting to peter out again, Jedao asks softly, "Do you remember what you told me, about getting so mad when John asked if you were disgusted? Hurt, that he could even think that?"
"Because..." He's not sure. He just knows it felt like claws raking across his heart, that it just made him more angry, that it made him want to make things hurt, because if John thought he was disgusted then maybe--
Maybe what?
"I thought-- I thought he knew I would never be... disgusted by him. That I would never... That maybe I'd be hurt by something he did but I would never... be disgusted by him. I would never."
"Yes," Jedao agrees softly. "It hurts like that, when...we thought someone would know us in a certain way, and then they say something that makes it seem like they don't. And...I know sometimes, when an old terror lived very deep in your heart, or just when you plain don't understand something. you can...wonder if terrible things are true, that really have nothing to do with the person you're doubting."
He strokes Edwin's hair idly.
"I don't think it's wrong at all, for you to be scared sometimes that John will stop loving you, will hate you. But I do think...letting yourself give into that fear and despair, I think it can hurt John. Because don't you know. Don't you know that he could never?"
"Of course," Jedao promises. And then, gingerly after a moment, because he hopes Edwin will feel secure enough to refuse, but - Jedao wants to give it to him if he's scared enough to accept.
"I assumed you'd stay with us for a little while. Do you want...do you want me to take John off my filter for now, so he can't teleport in here?"
"Yes," Jedao says simply, steady and somber. "You're my family, and this is your home, too, and if that's what you need to feel safe here right now, I'd do it."
He has to pause a moment to take that in. Then he leans against Jedao, much more softly this time, resting instead of hanging on like the world is washing away around them.
"N... No. I don't-- That would hurt him. That would hurt." He closes his eyes, relaxing a little more. Then he opens them again, and bites his lip.
"Okay," Jedao says softly, and it sounds like, I know. He did know it would hurt John, if he did it, but he had to offer anyway. He's proud, and relieved, and grateful that Edwin thought about that too.
"I...didn't think he had any powers? But - I did already take him off the door's auto-access list. If he tries to come in it'll chime that he's here but it won't open."
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Wait. Wait, there it is, he has the words.
I want him to get mad at me, really mad at me, like he wants to, so it can be over and we can both know that-- that-- even if we get that kind of angry it...
No, that's not it either, quite, because if it was then when John said fuck you it wouldn't have felt the way it did.
"I don't know," he says, softly panicked. "I don't know what I wanted and I don't know how to stop being mad when-- when-- when it's like you said. I don't want to be mad. I hate being mad at John, because most of the time he's right and it's not even mad it's something else."
He's starting to ramble now, but he stops abruptly and all he can think of is that poem, that poem from forever ago.
Isn't that love? Not being able to see the explosion even though you are the one holding the bomb, and the bomb is also you?
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Why do you think he wants to really get mad at you?
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I just want him to tell me-- that I'm like the King so I can be hurt and angry and maybe--
Maybe he'll stop looking at me like he knows I'm the bomb.
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He drops another little kiss on the top of Edwin's head.
Generally it is not a great idea to try to blow things up to prove things one way or the other. Or to...try to get into a fight when you aren't really sure what you want from it. It's unfair to the other person, and it's a great way to - well, get a lot of things you don't want, after all. But having fights - even really painful ones - that's something lots of people do, and still love each other. Hell, Arthur and I had three or four serious blow-outs before we managed to be any kind of friends at all.
The last time you got furiously angry and fucked something up, you tortured a man. This time you had kind of a normal fight where you yelled at your brother and maybe neither of you did a great job listening to each other very well. Try to...think about that. Those two things are very not the same. You've learned and grown and come a really long way, actually. I'm proud of you.
And...I don't think he thinks you're like the King, he admits, honestly. But whatever is going on with him, when he looks at you like that, it hurts you. So I'm going to figure out what it is, and how to fix it.
That's all.
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He didn't even think about hurting anyone, not even Charlie.
Something in that sends a shockwave ripple through him, a feeling that takes a little while to translate. Relief.
Quite suddenly, Jedao will have a wholeass humanshaped boy on his lap, clinging to him and sobbing onto his shoulder.
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"There there, baby. That's alright. That's my good boy," he murmurs into Edwin's hair, nonsensically except that maybe Edwin can finally here it. The edge of the table is probably digging into Edwin's back and eventually Jedao's thighs are going to go numb, but he doesn't care.
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"I wanted-- I wanted it to matter that I was upset. I wanted it to matter that I was upset, I just wanted him to tell me that it mattered that I was upset."
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"Well," he muses. "I guess three out of four isn't that bad."
Yes, he fucked up. But no, John won't hate him.
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Yeah he's going to shift enough that he won't crush his dad--shift in Jedao's lap, shift himself to be lighter and a little shorter--and then just keep crying on his shoulder for a little bit.
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When Edwin is starting to peter out again, Jedao asks softly, "Do you remember what you told me, about getting so mad when John asked if you were disgusted? Hurt, that he could even think that?"
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Jedao knows it. But he wants to see if Edwin understands it himself.
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Maybe what?
"I thought-- I thought he knew I would never be... disgusted by him. That I would never... That maybe I'd be hurt by something he did but I would never... be disgusted by him. I would never."
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He strokes Edwin's hair idly.
"I don't think it's wrong at all, for you to be scared sometimes that John will stop loving you, will hate you. But I do think...letting yourself give into that fear and despair, I think it can hurt John. Because don't you know. Don't you know that he could never?"
Deliberately echoing Edwin's phrasing.
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"I know he could never stop loving me. But I-- I don't know if I'll always be me to him."
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"...Can I still stay here for now?"
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"I assumed you'd stay with us for a little while. Do you want...do you want me to take John off my filter for now, so he can't teleport in here?"
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"Wh--" A pause, bewildered, and his voice comes out very small. "You'd do that for me?"
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"N... No. I don't-- That would hurt him. That would hurt." He closes his eyes, relaxing a little more. Then he opens them again, and bites his lip.
"Could-- Is Arthur on the filters?"
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"I...didn't think he had any powers? But - I did already take him off the door's auto-access list. If he tries to come in it'll chime that he's here but it won't open."
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"When he-- It really went badly. And he was the one who did things wrong."
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