HE CAN SENSE THE PANIC, like his antennas are attuned to this low, familiar static. to be fair, spending life modifying his behavior to avoid burdening his dad, his mom — his mom — required sensitive antennas and a pliant personality to cater to them where they were at. his tone softens, mollified both by mild helplessness and a gentle attempt to meet him where he’s at, redirect them to something calming, keep him from spiraling too far. listen close enough and you’ll hear the desperation, the plea for emiliano to see that he is not a monster. ❝ did you think you were doing the wrong thing when you did it? or did you think it would work? and that nothing bad would happen? — what if we’re approaching it the wrong way, what if it’s not so black and white? ❞ he’s showered in shameful sort of warmth, neck burning / he never should’ve brought in the hypotheticals, he wanted to backtrack / he should’ve backtracked. focus. focus. ❝ i know, you’re right. i’m sorry.. ❞ brows furrow hearing the question. ❝ how? how would you have known that? ❞ desperate eyes search the face of a boy who seems to be splintered by every mine available, if not burying the mines beneath himself and splicing a self-made minefield. his heart a mass of ache watching it happen. ❝ no — that’s not — so, what? you know one fucking rule and you’re supposed to guess the others? don’t do that to yourself. ❞ stop planting mines. ❝ ‘cause i’m the actual asshole in this friendship. you’d see it if you weren’t distracted by my victorian-boy body. ❞ he jests, holding onto humor in hopes lightening and disarming. he squeezes em’s hand to give the other something to latch on to, tongue flitting over chapped lips, as he searches his eyes. ❝ y’wanna do me a favor though? you might think it’s stupid and that’s alright, but can you do this for me? name five things you see. i’ll start you off.. how ‘bout that — ❞ he scoffs, slight smile on his lips, head canting at: ❝ that take out bag on the floor, from hoagans? with the shitty hoagies? like how the fuck do you mess that up, you’re literally named hoagans? — but you go, what else do y’see? ❞
THERE WAS SOMETHING CLAWING AT HIM. while he couldn’t exactly put words to it, he could probably paint what the emotions were doing to him. he was both trapped and being pulled apart in a million different ways. almost like a lab rat that was bound into a small cage, with their hands, feet, tail, and head tied and pulled out until parts of the fur started to poke out of the metal bars. then his breaths were hitched, almost as if he was a six year old having an asthma attack for the first time. something was clawing at his chest from the insides while his lungs were being sucked inward. stiles was being too kind, too accepting, too understanding. emiliano didn’t want to blame the man of all of those things, his need to be yelled at just predominated every other sector of his brain. ❝ if it’s not black and white, then what is it? even when you think about it, people get gray when they mix the first two together. ❞ if there wasn’t just black and white then he was probably still in the black. a monster with plenty of other options that he could have chosen from right away. ❝ the craft is something i’ve been studying for years, almost two decades now. i know the warning signs when they’re there and i just ignored them. ❞ was that the truth? did he know that bringing his mother back would have ramifications and still did it anyway? it probably didn’t matter now since everything was already thrown out there, the spell was casted and now he was just dealing with the consequences. ❝ would an asshole constantly put himself in danger over a group of people that he should steer clear of? as much as the sarcasm builds you up, this time i think i’m taking the role of biggest asshole. ❞ emiliano didn’t mean to sound that cold, especially not to stiles, but he needed to get his point across. he swallowed and his throat felt dry, like it was a forming black hole. when the witch not he started to look around the room before answering the other. ❝ would you judge me if i said i didn’t go there for the hoagies? ❞ the witch felt like a weight was lifted from his chest. ❝ a blank canvas. ❞ em lifted his chin up to point at the empty white square with it, jutting it out towards the fresh start.
