Reap Just What You Sow

*Gael* · 06-21-2013, 02:20 PM

He didn't give up easily. It wasn't in his vocabulary. There was always a way to help someone, one way or another. To give up on someone was to not care and Gael cared. Not necessarily because he became attached to everyone or was an emotional kind of guy, but because he wanted to be the one person that even when the entire world gave up, he never did. If he ever got to a point in his life where he wanted to completely give up on everything, he would hope that there would be someone, whether it a family member or a complete stranger, that wouldn't want to give up on him. Someone who would push him because they weren't about to let him give up on something that wasn't worth parting with. That's the kind of guy he wanted to be. For anyone and everyone. He wanted to be the rock, the safety blanket for those who believed that they had no one. Because no one was alone. No one was ever truly alone.

And that's what he was trying to do with the little onyx boy before him. The child was in distress, having just apparently set foot back on Valhalla, much like himself. Whereas Gael was trouble by the fact that maybe he wouldn't have a place in his home again, this child had something else going on. Something had hurt him, betrayed him and made him feel like he was unimportant and that wasn't right. No one should feel like they didn't matter because everyone mattered. Everyone was important, to someone somewhere, everyone mattered. He was sure the little fellow had parents somewhere here in Valhalla, but as to where they were at the moment, was anyone's guess. Did they know what was going on with their son? Probably not, since the dark youth didn't seem like the type to go looking for his parents for help. The Adravendi could understand that. Parents weren't always the ideal people to talk to about your feelings, since they didn't always understand. But Gael wasn't his parents. He wasn't even a friend, though he hoped by the end of this maybe he could make something out of their little encounter. The boy had every reason to trust him and every reason not to. He hoped he would choose every reason to trust him because he wanted to help the young lad. With whatever he could, he would help the young boy.

His words didn't seem to bode well with the youth, the boy's frame tensing defensively, ebon kissers curling up for a moment before relaxing. Audits pinned themselves against his head, brows furrowing atop his eyes as he studied the boy. Why did he react that way whenever he talked about himself? And then, he spoke. You don't know me. Talking about things that wound you only makes the pain worse. I'm tired of talking it doesn't do any good. A quiet sigh slipped past chocolate lips. But just because I don't know you, I shouldn't help you? I don't see it like that little brother. And yes, I know talking about it sometimes doesn't make you feel any better, but if you talk about it, it can help you understand why the other person did what they did. Because it has to do with someone else, doesn't it? He was going out on a limb here, trying to see if he could hit something, maybe get some clues as to why the boy was feeling betrayed. Or maybe figuring out who was the one that had caused this feeling of betrayal.

Talk like this

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