If Arthur had slipped into the right memory crack, he could've met the little scamp. Sweet, charming in an uncharismatic way, funny. A different person entirely.
"I'm sorry," Ossie's voice has a veneer on it not dissimilar to a well-polished piece of furniture, "I meant only to sympathize. To- to express my solidarity, that you aren't... alone."
"Yes, thank you, I feel wonderfully related-to," says Arthur ungently. It's really something to have a guy tell you about his century spent breaking people's backs, in order to make you feel less alone. It's really something to know that, yep, that's basically the comparison you deserve.
He shouldn't have said it. But Arthur feels overwhelmed: he dragged his crimes and torments in the Dreamlands to the surface, and now he stands with one foot in that sucking mire, and another in the revelation of Ossie as a tormentor, and another in not fucking up what's suddenly a delicate conversation where Ossie has made himself vulnerable, and he doesn't have enough feet for this.
He looks with his hands; Ossie isn't where he was. He has, as promised, gone, whether to get tea or just to be far away from this shitshow. Feeling suddenly very alone in the cottage, Arthur stands and gropes for his cane beside the couch.
Ossie listened to him, opened up himself about his regrets, and in return... Arthur did basically what he's always afraid other people will do. Yeah, he doesn't feel great about what he's been told, but Ossie sure didn't seem to feel great telling it, either.
"Ossie," he calls woodenly, "come back. I-I'm an unbelievable prick."
Wrong, motherfucker! They're having tea and talking!
"No, you didn't," he snaps. God damn it. He hates the neat little veil that's been drawn over Ossie's tone. He hates the silence with which he's suddenly moving, like a child afraid of its parents.
"You did me a kindness, with- with no small amount of trust involved, and I'm too--" His voice cracks again, and the sentence goes somewhere he didn't intend, somewhere really dismayed with himself, but not somewhere untrue. "--Too much still in, i-in that fucking place, to act with any kind of, of reason or tact in return."
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ossie_oswald) wrote2022-06-14 07:18 pm
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"I'm sorry," Ossie's voice has a veneer on it not dissimilar to a well-polished piece of furniture, "I meant only to sympathize. To- to express my solidarity, that you aren't... alone."
...
"I should go get some tea."
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He shouldn't have said it. But Arthur feels overwhelmed: he dragged his crimes and torments in the Dreamlands to the surface, and now he stands with one foot in that sucking mire, and another in the revelation of Ossie as a tormentor, and another in not fucking up what's suddenly a delicate conversation where Ossie has made himself vulnerable, and he doesn't have enough feet for this.
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"Fuck."
He looks with his hands; Ossie isn't where he was. He has, as promised, gone, whether to get tea or just to be far away from this shitshow. Feeling suddenly very alone in the cottage, Arthur stands and gropes for his cane beside the couch.
Ossie listened to him, opened up himself about his regrets, and in return... Arthur did basically what he's always afraid other people will do. Yeah, he doesn't feel great about what he's been told, but Ossie sure didn't seem to feel great telling it, either.
"Ossie," he calls woodenly, "come back. I-I'm an unbelievable prick."
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"It's quite alright. You have my apologies, I said far too much. There's a few jam biscuits just a bit to the left of your cup on the tray."
And now they are not talking because they are Having Tea.
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"No, you didn't," he snaps. God damn it. He hates the neat little veil that's been drawn over Ossie's tone. He hates the silence with which he's suddenly moving, like a child afraid of its parents.
"You did me a kindness, with- with no small amount of trust involved, and I'm too--" His voice cracks again, and the sentence goes somewhere he didn't intend, somewhere really dismayed with himself, but not somewhere untrue. "--Too much still in, i-in that fucking place, to act with any kind of, of reason or tact in return."
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"It's alright. I'm sorry, I would've reacted largely the same way after I escaped. I'm... sorry."
He doesn't know what else to say, but he certainly doesn't want to blame Arthur.