Safe. He is safe. Safe to just exist in the world. Safe to be around for other people. How long has it been, since he really felt that? Has he ever?
He's had it drilled into him so completely that he is a lit match held just above a pool of gasoline. That he must be attentive, and careful, and still, and do everything right, and even then, chances are sooner or later something will happen to make someone get hurt. Ben can't remember back far enough, to when it had started. All of those old old memories are blurred. He'd just accepted it, that he would never really be safe for anyone to be around. That no one apart from his family - who had no choice, and who knew how useful he could be in a fight where a lot of people needed to die - would ever want to be.
But here is Cole, who can see beyond the surface of things and into the heart of them, into what they really are, not running away from him. Trying to help him in ways he didn't even know he could hope for. Holding his hand like he isn't some disgusting thing.
Ben hasn't got the words for any of it, but maybe that's okay. He can just sit here with Cole's hand in his - and who cares, about the tattiness of the gloves, or the rest of it? - and be quiet, and grateful, and feel, just for a little bit. Safe.
no subject
He's had it drilled into him so completely that he is a lit match held just above a pool of gasoline. That he must be attentive, and careful, and still, and do everything right, and even then, chances are sooner or later something will happen to make someone get hurt. Ben can't remember back far enough, to when it had started. All of those old old memories are blurred. He'd just accepted it, that he would never really be safe for anyone to be around. That no one apart from his family - who had no choice, and who knew how useful he could be in a fight where a lot of people needed to die - would ever want to be.
But here is Cole, who can see beyond the surface of things and into the heart of them, into what they really are, not running away from him. Trying to help him in ways he didn't even know he could hope for. Holding his hand like he isn't some disgusting thing.
Ben hasn't got the words for any of it, but maybe that's okay. He can just sit here with Cole's hand in his - and who cares, about the tattiness of the gloves, or the rest of it? - and be quiet, and grateful, and feel, just for a little bit. Safe.