[ The kid watches Gen for a moment longer, but seeing his hands relax, hearing him give that affirmative... ]
Thanks.
[ He offers up a small smile, his face brightening as he tilts his head thoughtfully before pushing himself up and off the ground, slowly making his way over to the two of them. His hair is still dishevelled, evidence of his earlier sobbing still on display through puffy eyes and reddened cheeks, but he isn't crying anymore.
Amos, meanwhile, doesn't remove his hand from Gen's knee. Can't. That flash of an image he got from Gen stays in his mind, a glimpse of understanding. It's not the same situation as him, he knows that, but the echoes are still strong. And Gen's still powering through this for him.
Or for his younger self.
Or for him. He can't really tell.
He watches as the kid starts to make his way over, something in him still torn up because. He knows it couldn't have been this easy back when it was him, his childhood. He knows this is a lie. A harmless one, because it's not like the kid's in any danger here, but his desire to comfort him — where he's failed, where Gen has taken on the brunt of that — is still feuding with his knowledge that it's impossible, that a real solution will never come. That the kid still has years of this head of him. That there's no actual saving him. ]
Timmy—
[ It comes unbidden from his lips, and Timmy pauses a second to look at him, so hopeful it makes Amos' heart hurt, before he finishes up his journey over to the two of them. Stops in front of Gen, his hand reaching out to his head. To those ears. ]
Can I...?
[ And if he's given permission — and only then — will he finish reaching out to pet them. ]
no subject
Thanks.
[ He offers up a small smile, his face brightening as he tilts his head thoughtfully before pushing himself up and off the ground, slowly making his way over to the two of them. His hair is still dishevelled, evidence of his earlier sobbing still on display through puffy eyes and reddened cheeks, but he isn't crying anymore.
Amos, meanwhile, doesn't remove his hand from Gen's knee. Can't. That flash of an image he got from Gen stays in his mind, a glimpse of understanding. It's not the same situation as him, he knows that, but the echoes are still strong. And Gen's still powering through this for him.
Or for his younger self.
Or for him. He can't really tell.
He watches as the kid starts to make his way over, something in him still torn up because. He knows it couldn't have been this easy back when it was him, his childhood. He knows this is a lie. A harmless one, because it's not like the kid's in any danger here, but his desire to comfort him — where he's failed, where Gen has taken on the brunt of that — is still feuding with his knowledge that it's impossible, that a real solution will never come. That the kid still has years of this head of him. That there's no actual saving him. ]
Timmy—
[ It comes unbidden from his lips, and Timmy pauses a second to look at him, so hopeful it makes Amos' heart hurt, before he finishes up his journey over to the two of them. Stops in front of Gen, his hand reaching out to his head. To those ears. ]
Can I...?
[ And if he's given permission — and only then — will he finish reaching out to pet them. ]