[There's not much Jason can do at this point to hold it against Nothing, to take bits and twist. Being accused of being self-aggrandizing and a martyr already hollowed it out so much that there's not much else Jason could say that would be worse. That hit with all the fury of Nothing's father telling it to stop wasting time on useless things, with all the same implications: everything you say is wrong. Everything you do is wrong. Just do the one thing you are good for. So it had tried, and somehow that never made anyone happy, even though it was only trying to do what everyone wanted. It doesn't understand. Maybe if it tries harder...
...but Jason acts like he wants Nothing to speak. Like he wants it angry or frustrated if that means it isn't walking around in a daze, only functioning, no longer attempting to engage with its' own (possibly fading) humanity. Nothing cannot figure this guy out to save its' life.
He touches Nothing as if they're friends and Nothing has to force back the desire to sob. How long has it been since someone held its' hand? Three years? Four? It leans in, as if that could somehow make this moment sear into its' memory, stay there where it can be hung onto and treasured.
Then Jason drops the kind of emotional bombs that confirm that Nothing is a spoiled, self-righteous, self-centered, self-absorbed jackass who has not had anything hard in even the slightest way. And Nothing's free hand rests atop Jason's atop its', as if somehow they can provide mutual comfort to one another. What it really wants is to have some way to make the past better. There is none. That hurts, the knowledge Jason suffered and there's nothing that can be done to erase the horrors he's endured. He doesn't deserve to have to live with that.]
You're so much better than me. You've been through so much, and you're so... together. Whole. You put yourself back together. I really admire you, Jason.
[The way Nothing speaks now is soft, almost awed, even if there's still an edge of raw vulnerability there, of anxiety underneath the calm Jason's attempting to provide. He's so, so good to Nothing, who absolutely does not deserve this second chance, who doesn't deserve soft voices and admissions of secrets and art supplies. Nothing wants to kiss him. It wants to tell him he isn't alone. Both things seem like more than Nothing has a right to do, after the way it's been acting lately.]
I want help. I just don't know if it's too late, and I... I don't know how this works. I know I don't want to be a terrible person, but that's all I know. What if it's too late for me?
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...but Jason acts like he wants Nothing to speak. Like he wants it angry or frustrated if that means it isn't walking around in a daze, only functioning, no longer attempting to engage with its' own (possibly fading) humanity. Nothing cannot figure this guy out to save its' life.
He touches Nothing as if they're friends and Nothing has to force back the desire to sob. How long has it been since someone held its' hand? Three years? Four? It leans in, as if that could somehow make this moment sear into its' memory, stay there where it can be hung onto and treasured.
Then Jason drops the kind of emotional bombs that confirm that Nothing is a spoiled, self-righteous, self-centered, self-absorbed jackass who has not had anything hard in even the slightest way. And Nothing's free hand rests atop Jason's atop its', as if somehow they can provide mutual comfort to one another. What it really wants is to have some way to make the past better. There is none. That hurts, the knowledge Jason suffered and there's nothing that can be done to erase the horrors he's endured. He doesn't deserve to have to live with that.]
You're so much better than me. You've been through so much, and you're so... together. Whole. You put yourself back together. I really admire you, Jason.
[The way Nothing speaks now is soft, almost awed, even if there's still an edge of raw vulnerability there, of anxiety underneath the calm Jason's attempting to provide. He's so, so good to Nothing, who absolutely does not deserve this second chance, who doesn't deserve soft voices and admissions of secrets and art supplies. Nothing wants to kiss him. It wants to tell him he isn't alone. Both things seem like more than Nothing has a right to do, after the way it's been acting lately.]
I want help. I just don't know if it's too late, and I... I don't know how this works. I know I don't want to be a terrible person, but that's all I know. What if it's too late for me?