[ Gen's anger flares once more, his words bristling like a dog's raised hackles. It's unsteady, though. His rage isn't the red-hot flare of heated steel, but the sputtering of an bonfire built over water, the flame roaring hot one moment then flickering the next. Tainted with uncertainty, doubt, denial, even as he continues to snarl, ]
You talk a big game like you know everything about me -- what the hell do you think you know! You understand me?! You fucking wish! You don't know anything about me and Reiji!
[ So he says, but Set is right. Gen knows Set is right. And across the vulnerable space of Communion, Set must also feel the way Gen knows he's right.
Yes, some part of him would have cackled with glee at the prospect of shattering those jars and watching Set's face warp with despair. He's cruel, after all, and relishes in the pain of those he likes and loves. An ugly brute, a sadist. A part of him would have gleefully smashed a jar over Set's own head, just to rub salt in the wound, in hopes of watching Set break.
He hates it. He hates that Set is right, and he hates that part of himself. He hates that he's fought so desperately to keep it chained up and hidden, but Set would speak of it so openly. He hates that Set knows that about him, but still claims he would have been there for him -- it's a lie, it has to be, because that's wrong. There's the phantom sensation of bile rising to the back of the throat, an acrid sting accompanied by a sick churning of the stomach. Gen laboriously swallows it back as he always does, eyes watering and pulse ringing in his ears; he hates this, too, the familiar way his body seems to revolt against his own thoughts when he's stressed like this.
That's why he says what he says next, he tells himself. It's Set's fault. Set goaded him into it. Set's the reason he snaps -- ]
So what if those things are your son? [ Unseen, he smiles wolfish and cruel. (It's forced. His words come strained.) That's what Set wants and expects from him, right? Fine, then. ] You should've thought about that before you disobeyed me. You really are insane, picking a fight with me when your own son was on the line.
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[ Gen's anger flares once more, his words bristling like a dog's raised hackles. It's unsteady, though. His rage isn't the red-hot flare of heated steel, but the sputtering of an bonfire built over water, the flame roaring hot one moment then flickering the next. Tainted with uncertainty, doubt, denial, even as he continues to snarl, ]
You talk a big game like you know everything about me -- what the hell do you think you know! You understand me?! You fucking wish! You don't know anything about me and Reiji!
[ So he says, but Set is right. Gen knows Set is right. And across the vulnerable space of Communion, Set must also feel the way Gen knows he's right.
Yes, some part of him would have cackled with glee at the prospect of shattering those jars and watching Set's face warp with despair. He's cruel, after all, and relishes in the pain of those he likes and loves. An ugly brute, a sadist. A part of him would have gleefully smashed a jar over Set's own head, just to rub salt in the wound, in hopes of watching Set break.
He hates it. He hates that Set is right, and he hates that part of himself. He hates that he's fought so desperately to keep it chained up and hidden, but Set would speak of it so openly. He hates that Set knows that about him, but still claims he would have been there for him -- it's a lie, it has to be, because that's wrong. There's the phantom sensation of bile rising to the back of the throat, an acrid sting accompanied by a sick churning of the stomach. Gen laboriously swallows it back as he always does, eyes watering and pulse ringing in his ears; he hates this, too, the familiar way his body seems to revolt against his own thoughts when he's stressed like this.
That's why he says what he says next, he tells himself. It's Set's fault. Set goaded him into it. Set's the reason he snaps -- ]
So what if those things are your son? [ Unseen, he smiles wolfish and cruel. (It's forced. His words come strained.) That's what Set wants and expects from him, right? Fine, then. ] You should've thought about that before you disobeyed me. You really are insane, picking a fight with me when your own son was on the line.