"Yeah, habits," he nodded. "You got some of his, and there are a lot you don't. But I kind of like the ones all your own."
He leaned into his touch, scooting a bit closer to him, looking at him as he spoke, drinking in the words, needing them more than he had thought he did. He'd spent a lot of his life being told he couldn't do things, that he wasn't good enough. It was why he so enjoyed praise, so enjoyed doing things right, or smarter, or better. It was why he liked winning fights. Why it meant something when people he cared about said those things.
"You don't know how much I wish you never had to go through all this shit," he motioned to the wall. "I know that it's made you who you are, but I hate knowing you went through that." He ran a hand through his hair, reminding himself it wasn't something he could fix. It was done and gone, and who knew what the hell wouldn't come to pass if it wasn't like this? His own time had been altered so drastically...
"What kept you going?" he asked him softly, looking back at the row upon row of names. "You were twelve when all this started. How did you survive it?" He wasn't sure he could have, not at that age. Hell, he barely survived Sam leaving him, much less facing crap like what Whiskey was talking about.
Action
He leaned into his touch, scooting a bit closer to him, looking at him as he spoke, drinking in the words, needing them more than he had thought he did. He'd spent a lot of his life being told he couldn't do things, that he wasn't good enough. It was why he so enjoyed praise, so enjoyed doing things right, or smarter, or better. It was why he liked winning fights. Why it meant something when people he cared about said those things.
"You don't know how much I wish you never had to go through all this shit," he motioned to the wall. "I know that it's made you who you are, but I hate knowing you went through that." He ran a hand through his hair, reminding himself it wasn't something he could fix. It was done and gone, and who knew what the hell wouldn't come to pass if it wasn't like this? His own time had been altered so drastically...
"What kept you going?" he asked him softly, looking back at the row upon row of names. "You were twelve when all this started. How did you survive it?" He wasn't sure he could have, not at that age. Hell, he barely survived Sam leaving him, much less facing crap like what Whiskey was talking about.