[Paul halts instantly under Johnny's hand. One lapse in discipline, however dramatic, isn't enough to dissolve all of it.
Not even when Johnny speaks, and the realization of what he means hits Paul like a plunge through thin ice into cold water. He takes a sharp, hard breath, neglectful of his bruises and his surroundings, the world surging into a blur of white static. It isn't that he forgets himself. It's that he remembers himself too much, from the prickle of skin on the back of his neck to the ache of his jarred bones to the numb, gnawing hollow of his heart.
He knows what Johnny is doing. In a childish, petulant impulse, he wishes that he didn't. It would be easier to be selfish if he could make himself not understand.
Paul brings his hand up to hook over Johnny's wrist. He doesn't try to catch his eye, to make him look at him. He doesn't glance away to follow Robby's departure or Daniel's attempts at mitigation.]
You didn't make me do anything.
[He pitches his voice low enough to stay between the two of them. His eyes flit across the collapsed lines of Johnny's face and the exhaustion held in them, and he squeezes Johnny's wrist once, lightly, before he lets his hand fall away.]
I'll stay with him. [As soft as the first powdered snow.] Take care of yourself, sensei.
[Because someone has to, he doesn't say, even with worry a thousand splinters in his chest, because if anything happens to you now, it's my fault, like this is my fault.
As an undertone, it's better than the alternatives.]
no subject
Not even when Johnny speaks, and the realization of what he means hits Paul like a plunge through thin ice into cold water. He takes a sharp, hard breath, neglectful of his bruises and his surroundings, the world surging into a blur of white static. It isn't that he forgets himself. It's that he remembers himself too much, from the prickle of skin on the back of his neck to the ache of his jarred bones to the numb, gnawing hollow of his heart.
He knows what Johnny is doing. In a childish, petulant impulse, he wishes that he didn't. It would be easier to be selfish if he could make himself not understand.
Paul brings his hand up to hook over Johnny's wrist. He doesn't try to catch his eye, to make him look at him. He doesn't glance away to follow Robby's departure or Daniel's attempts at mitigation.]
You didn't make me do anything.
[He pitches his voice low enough to stay between the two of them. His eyes flit across the collapsed lines of Johnny's face and the exhaustion held in them, and he squeezes Johnny's wrist once, lightly, before he lets his hand fall away.]
I'll stay with him. [As soft as the first powdered snow.] Take care of yourself, sensei.
[Because someone has to, he doesn't say, even with worry a thousand splinters in his chest, because if anything happens to you now, it's my fault, like this is my fault.
As an undertone, it's better than the alternatives.]