[ Robby really can't blame Mister LaRusso for what he did. He can say he shouldn't have done it, and if his feelings err on any truly emotional side, it's more frustration at what happened than anything the man did. Frustration more like a panic than anger, and the thought of him now-- the thought of what could've happened. Even if he would've come back--
He should have needed to go in the first place. (He shouldn't be like this, either.)
Robby doesn't need explanations, or reasons. Mister LaRusso had a planned, it failed, and they both share that. But as he keeps going, Mister Larusso's words hit Robby in a way he doesn't quite know how to feel about. Not that it stops his body from deciding; a different kind of heat that warms him from the one that tickles his skin, the way his heart flips. I love you too much to let something happen to you.
...Is this what having someone choose to be your dad is like? Is this kind of affection the sort that he deserves? He'll hate this promise some time in the future, surely, in another circumstance. But right now Robby can get something selfish out of it, and yet he isn't sure how exactly to accept it, digest it. It leaves him quiet for a bit, before he tilts his head so his face isn't so buried against Mister LaRusso's chest (but also not pushing away that hand stroking at his hair...), just enough that he can still see the fabric of his shirt. ]
no subject
He should have needed to go in the first place. (He shouldn't be like this, either.)
Robby doesn't need explanations, or reasons. Mister LaRusso had a planned, it failed, and they both share that. But as he keeps going, Mister Larusso's words hit Robby in a way he doesn't quite know how to feel about. Not that it stops his body from deciding; a different kind of heat that warms him from the one that tickles his skin, the way his heart flips. I love you too much to let something happen to you.
...Is this what having someone choose to be your dad is like? Is this kind of affection the sort that he deserves? He'll hate this promise some time in the future, surely, in another circumstance. But right now Robby can get something selfish out of it, and yet he isn't sure how exactly to accept it, digest it. It leaves him quiet for a bit, before he tilts his head so his face isn't so buried against Mister LaRusso's chest (but also not pushing away that hand stroking at his hair...), just enough that he can still see the fabric of his shirt. ]
What if I don't want anything to happen to you?
[ A question spoken as softly back. ]