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."
He hugs Jedao again, grounding himself. He's exhausted, suddenly, absolutely exhausted, but at least he doesn't feel like everything is spinning out around him. Not as much.
Quietly enough that only Jedao could hear it, even if there was someone else in the room, he says, "I would choose you, bàba."
"You still think I would choose Arthur." He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in so he can let it out as a sigh. Sometimes breathing just feels nice. "But I wouldn't, I would choose you."
He lets Edwin hold his face; his hands are very grounding.
"Oh," he says again, blinking hard.
It doesn't - it doesn't really matter, he tries to tell himself. Arthur is a unit with John, and Edwin is still going home with them someday if they let him, and Jedao has to hope they will, has to hope he'll see Faroe again, and it doesn't matter that Jedao made peace in his heart with all his father's massacres, wanting to find a good home to give Edwin, with a million more little brothers who don't mind shapeshifters and aliens, and Hemiola, and the orchard -
But Edwin would like to choose him, and it still feels like a meteor strike, like a seismic impact in his brain, far more impossible to comprehend than the eldritch geometries he once saw in the King's shifting vorticies.
He grabs Edwin tight again, so tight, and this time he's the one pressing hot, wet eyelids against the shoulder of Edwin's shirt. He doesn't sob, doesn't even breathe for a long time, just clings to him.
"I wouldn't ask you," he whispers. But. But. "Thank you, Edwin."
"I know." He clings back, relieved in an odd way to be the solid one for a moment. "But--"
He stops, tries to figure out how to say this. "I want to travel with John. I want to see Faroe. I want to know what that world is like from a better place. But it..."
Again, he's not sure how to phrase it, sorting through the complicated detritus that he sorts through every other day.
"I don't know what it's like there, because there are still things they won't tell me. That's not home. That's a place to visit, a place to stay, a place to live even maybe and love probably a lot. That's not home. I can't daydream about all that much, when I think of Arkham."
"It's okay. I promise." Jedao wants - selfishly, he wants the soon years, all this time when Edwin is still growing up to match the age he looks like. But Jedao and Edwin and John are immortal. Arthur and Faroe - Jedao shouldn't steal any of the time Edwin can have with them.
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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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"Okay. He can't get in here, and if he comes, I won't open the door. I'll tell Hakkai not to, either."
After a moment -
"It sounds like he did something worse than not listening to you."
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There's a shift, a tiny hardening in his eyes. "I want to tell him he fucked himself from the jump."
Blame his 20th century friends for the phrasing.
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"Alright," Jedao agrees. "If that's what you want. Just know I support you, okay Sunshine?"
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Quietly enough that only Jedao could hear it, even if there was someone else in the room, he says, "I would choose you, bàba."
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He's not sure if he heard wrong, if he's just confused, or if he's missing what Edwin is referring to. He's not...that isn't...
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He's supposed to be happy. And grateful. And -
"I didn't - I didn't do any of this to make you - you don't owe me anything, sweetheart."
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"Shǎguā. It's been you for a long-ass time."
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"Oh," he says again, blinking hard.
It doesn't - it doesn't really matter, he tries to tell himself. Arthur is a unit with John, and Edwin is still going home with them someday if they let him, and Jedao has to hope they will, has to hope he'll see Faroe again, and it doesn't matter that Jedao made peace in his heart with all his father's massacres, wanting to find a good home to give Edwin, with a million more little brothers who don't mind shapeshifters and aliens, and Hemiola, and the orchard -
But Edwin would like to choose him, and it still feels like a meteor strike, like a seismic impact in his brain, far more impossible to comprehend than the eldritch geometries he once saw in the King's shifting vorticies.
He grabs Edwin tight again, so tight, and this time he's the one pressing hot, wet eyelids against the shoulder of Edwin's shirt. He doesn't sob, doesn't even breathe for a long time, just clings to him.
"I wouldn't ask you," he whispers. But. But. "Thank you, Edwin."
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He stops, tries to figure out how to say this. "I want to travel with John. I want to see Faroe. I want to know what that world is like from a better place. But it..."
Again, he's not sure how to phrase it, sorting through the complicated detritus that he sorts through every other day.
"I don't know what it's like there, because there are still things they won't tell me. That's not home. That's a place to visit, a place to stay, a place to live even maybe and love probably a lot. That's not home. I can't daydream about all that much, when I think of Arkham."
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"It's okay. I promise." Jedao wants - selfishly, he wants the soon years, all this time when Edwin is still growing up to match the age he looks like. But Jedao and Edwin and John are immortal. Arthur and Faroe - Jedao shouldn't steal any of the time Edwin can have with them.
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