...If I were a kind person, I wouldn't have considered it at all.
[He doesn't sound angry, exactly. But there's something else underneath it, some strong emotion that's a bit more difficult to track.]
It's not a decision I made rashly, nor is it one I made lightly. If I were to have had difficulties after the fact, kindness would have had little to do with it.
I said you're kind, not that you weren't...misguided. I don't really know how else to phrase it.
[Sycamore has also been doing a surprisingly good (to him, at least) job of keeping his own emotions in check, but he can hear that strong emotion in Lysandre's voice and it...
...well.]
Something happened to you, didn't it? To make you this way. I don't understand how else there could be such a disconnect between how you see yourself, and how I and countless others do.
[Everything else had been straightforward enough to answer. Not pleasant, but not painful, either. Just things that simply are, in some form or another.
But this...this is difficult.]
I've told you before that I've tried to save people. That I was naive, that I didn't...understand the way that things were meant to be. That everything in this world is finite, including and especially how much of themselves that people are able to give to others.
Do you know what it feels like, to have reached that point? To be pushed past it, by those who will just take and take until they bleed you dry, and to still hear their demands and insistences that you haven't done enough? To know - not to merely think it, but to know that nothing you do will ever be enough? Sometimes it burns. Mostly it just feels hollow.
It never really leaves you. Feeling hollow like that.
[The lengthy response to the question is unexpected, and as Lysandre goes on Sycamore finds himself both immensely grateful that finally, finally he's being given a chance to understand the underlying motivations behind the Team Flare plot, and completely and utterly horrified by what he's hearing.
...he asked, didn't he? That was the whole point of these discussions. Reach inside for the things they both keep hidden, deep down, and bring them to light. On their own terms, not the moon cycles.
He expected the process to be painful, but he didn't expect this level of despair. Perhaps he should have.]
...I know there's nothing I can say that will make this right.
[It's tempting to try, however; dispense the usual platitudes of 'I wish I could have helped you' 'I'm so sorry I never saw it', 'I didn't realise things were this bad', just the endless 'I' 'I' 'I''s that he knows are nothing but an attempt to make himself feel better, to make up for the failures. His failures.]
But you are not naive, Lysandre. Everyone has a breaking point.
[Is this what happens, when kindness is corrupted? This level of misery and despair?
The action is someone difficult to manage, with his little friend asleep on his lap, but Sycamore successfully reaches out and places a hand on Lysandre's knee. It still feels selfish, really, but words are completely failing him and as much as he wishes it were true, what he said before was right - how could he expect to heal years of these feelings, with a few well-intentioned sentences? But god, if only he could.]
I want...to be able to say something useful, but I'm completely failing at it. Thank you so much for telling me this, though. It...you've opened my eyes and answered some things I've been wondering and...
[...look just let him lower his head and squeeze your leg, alright, this is...wow, this is hard.]
[He glances over at the contact, though he's quick to look away; he isn't rejecting it, but he doesn't seem to know what to do in response to it either.
Eventually he shakes his head, the gesture tight.]
You don't have to say anything to me. It isn't something I ever intended to tell you; it's something best kept with me. The only reason I'm telling you any of this is because I believe you deserve some sort of closure.
There may not be anything you can say to make it right, but that's because it isn't your transgression to make right in the first place.
No, it's...it's not that I want to make anything right, I....
[Lysandre is only bringing this up - this deeply personal, painful topic - because he wants him to have closure. It stings, in a way that Sycamore can't describe. He moves his hand to the grass, tangling his fingers in the blades.]
....I just wish there was a way I could...I don't even know what I'm saying anymore, but I...you....I wish you could feel the way I feel about you, in that...
[This is quickly becoming worse than his Iris rant, at least that one was coherent-]
What I am trying to say, is that now that I know how you truly feel I want to do all I can to...not fix it, but at least give you some kind of happiness. While we're here. Is that...would that be alright? If I tried?
[There are a lot of things he could say to that; in the end, he decides against most of them in favor of saying the thing that's striking him hardest.]
You've never had to try very hard to give me that sort of thing, you know. It's something you've always been rather good at. Genuinely - I'm not just trying to make you feel better about all of this. Because I imagine you'll suspect that's what I'm doing, if you don't accuse me outright.
[He isn't quite able to relax entirely, though; it's...this has been a lot, hasn't it.]
I've been like this for a long time, you know. Hollow like that. Some days are better than others. Some are worse. I don't know if there's a way to change it, at this point.
It's fine if you want to try. But don't be upset with yourself if you can't.
[This has been a lot, alright, but Sycamore would be lying if he said he regretted it. Every time they talk about these topics it's...painful, but for the chance to find out how Lysandre truly feels and thinks? He can endure it.
The goats, do, admittedly help.]
I know, mon ami. I'm not trying to change you, I want to make you happy; not because of some sense of guilt, or because I think I need to make it up to you. Because I've always enjoyed doing so.
[Well, the idea of coffee has visibly perked him up a bit!]
I think we deserve some, after all this. I know I could use the caffeine. So could you, hmm?
[That last line is directed at said new friend, who has woken up from its nap and attempted to crawl off Sycamore's lap (with mixed success, he has to kind of. grab it to stop it faceplanting the grass). Go trot back to your friends, little one.
That new jumper of his has gathered quite a bit of white fluff, so Sycamore will brush both it and his pants down as he stands, stretching afterward.]
This was a lovely idea, though. There's something about this place and these little animals that calms me down.
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[He doesn't sound angry, exactly. But there's something else underneath it, some strong emotion that's a bit more difficult to track.]
It's not a decision I made rashly, nor is it one I made lightly. If I were to have had difficulties after the fact, kindness would have had little to do with it.
no subject
[Sycamore has also been doing a surprisingly good (to him, at least) job of keeping his own emotions in check, but he can hear that strong emotion in Lysandre's voice and it...
...well.]
Something happened to you, didn't it? To make you this way. I don't understand how else there could be such a disconnect between how you see yourself, and how I and countless others do.
no subject
But this...this is difficult.]
I've told you before that I've tried to save people. That I was naive, that I didn't...understand the way that things were meant to be. That everything in this world is finite, including and especially how much of themselves that people are able to give to others.
Do you know what it feels like, to have reached that point? To be pushed past it, by those who will just take and take until they bleed you dry, and to still hear their demands and insistences that you haven't done enough? To know - not to merely think it, but to know that nothing you do will ever be enough? Sometimes it burns. Mostly it just feels hollow.
It never really leaves you. Feeling hollow like that.
no subject
...he asked, didn't he? That was the whole point of these discussions. Reach inside for the things they both keep hidden, deep down, and bring them to light. On their own terms, not the moon cycles.
He expected the process to be painful, but he didn't expect this level of despair. Perhaps he should have.]
...I know there's nothing I can say that will make this right.
[It's tempting to try, however; dispense the usual platitudes of 'I wish I could have helped you' 'I'm so sorry I never saw it', 'I didn't realise things were this bad', just the endless 'I' 'I' 'I''s that he knows are nothing but an attempt to make himself feel better, to make up for the failures. His failures.]
But you are not naive, Lysandre. Everyone has a breaking point.
[Is this what happens, when kindness is corrupted? This level of misery and despair?
The action is someone difficult to manage, with his little friend asleep on his lap, but Sycamore successfully reaches out and places a hand on Lysandre's knee. It still feels selfish, really, but words are completely failing him and as much as he wishes it were true, what he said before was right - how could he expect to heal years of these feelings, with a few well-intentioned sentences? But god, if only he could.]
I want...to be able to say something useful, but I'm completely failing at it. Thank you so much for telling me this, though. It...you've opened my eyes and answered some things I've been wondering and...
[...look just let him lower his head and squeeze your leg, alright, this is...wow, this is hard.]
no subject
Eventually he shakes his head, the gesture tight.]
You don't have to say anything to me. It isn't something I ever intended to tell you; it's something best kept with me. The only reason I'm telling you any of this is because I believe you deserve some sort of closure.
There may not be anything you can say to make it right, but that's because it isn't your transgression to make right in the first place.
no subject
[Lysandre is only bringing this up - this deeply personal, painful topic - because he wants him to have closure. It stings, in a way that Sycamore can't describe. He moves his hand to the grass, tangling his fingers in the blades.]
....I just wish there was a way I could...I don't even know what I'm saying anymore, but I...you....I wish you could feel the way I feel about you, in that...
[This is quickly becoming worse than his Iris rant, at least that one was coherent-]
What I am trying to say, is that now that I know how you truly feel I want to do all I can to...not fix it, but at least give you some kind of happiness. While we're here. Is that...would that be alright? If I tried?
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You've never had to try very hard to give me that sort of thing, you know. It's something you've always been rather good at. Genuinely - I'm not just trying to make you feel better about all of this. Because I imagine you'll suspect that's what I'm doing, if you don't accuse me outright.
no subject
[To his credit, that does get him to release a quick laugh.]
I'm glad you've saved me the accusation. But I meant what I said, Lysandre.
[He'll even attempt some eye contact.]
If you think telling me any of this has made me want to avoid you, you're wrong. I'm afraid you're even more stuck with me, now.
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[He isn't quite able to relax entirely, though; it's...this has been a lot, hasn't it.]
I've been like this for a long time, you know. Hollow like that. Some days are better than others. Some are worse. I don't know if there's a way to change it, at this point.
It's fine if you want to try. But don't be upset with yourself if you can't.
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The goats, do, admittedly help.]
I know, mon ami. I'm not trying to change you, I want to make you happy; not because of some sense of guilt, or because I think I need to make it up to you. Because I've always enjoyed doing so.
[Have a smile, alright.]
Call me selfish, I suppose.
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Then it really is fortunate that you didn't buy coffee ahead of time; you know I like doing that.
We should get some, whenever you can bring yourself to make your new friend move.
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I think we deserve some, after all this. I know I could use the caffeine. So could you, hmm?
[That last line is directed at said new friend, who has woken up from its nap and attempted to crawl off Sycamore's lap (with mixed success, he has to kind of. grab it to stop it faceplanting the grass). Go trot back to your friends, little one.
That new jumper of his has gathered quite a bit of white fluff, so Sycamore will brush both it and his pants down as he stands, stretching afterward.]
This was a lovely idea, though. There's something about this place and these little animals that calms me down.