The rest...doesn't matter. Michael wanted to believe that, even though he realized that what Alex knew was really pitifully small. He may not have known all the facts of Alex's life, but he could've listed off more than that. But that "doesn't matter" caught in his brain, even as he pushed off the rail and followed Alex back inside.
But there was nothing else hopeful in there. Nothing from the early texts, nothing of the part where Alex was reevaluating and maybe had been wrong about Michael, nothing to hold on to to make all of it okay in his head.
And that sparked his anger, because he'd come out here hoping and now he felt jerked around, wondering what he'd done to fuck it up this time, or if Alex just had bait and switched things, playing on Michael's feelings for him just to...what? Why not just tell him this over texts? Why give him hope for one thing, then just fucking terrify him with another?
Anger was good, familiar, better than the shaking fear, but he was also exhausted and maintaining it was too hard. It got him through the door again, to the bedroom, and then the hurt and anxiety were both there again, but he had his guard up again, his shield. Because it seemed like rejection all over again, and after making it sound like he regretted it before, and Michael was spinning and confused and trying to hold on to the clearer, easier, safer emotion. You didn't show vulnerability like he just had; he knew better.
"What do you mean it doesn't matter?" he demanded. "You knew all this when you sent the first text--and it didn't matter who or what I might be, because you at least know I'm not a terrorist, and I was the boy you fell in love with and maybe you were sorry for walking away again? Or it doesn't matter, because you don't think I'm a national security threat, so don't need or want anything else to do with me, and you brought me up here to give me whatever you have, do the decent thing and warn me, and send me on my way out some kind of sentiment for something you once felt? Or it doesn't matter, because you may not know all the facts, but you actually do know me, and the facts don't change that? Do you even want to know more? Is that why I'm here? Did you send your dad away to give us a head start, or because you wanted to find a way for us to stay?"
And, goddammit, his voice had to go and break at the last part, and he felt like the kid no one ever wanted all over again, except Alex was the one person who had, but then he'd walked away, too, twice, and now seemed ready to do it all over again, after getting Michael's hopes up with those stupid fucking text messages.
no subject
But there was nothing else hopeful in there. Nothing from the early texts, nothing of the part where Alex was reevaluating and maybe had been wrong about Michael, nothing to hold on to to make all of it okay in his head.
And that sparked his anger, because he'd come out here hoping and now he felt jerked around, wondering what he'd done to fuck it up this time, or if Alex just had bait and switched things, playing on Michael's feelings for him just to...what? Why not just tell him this over texts? Why give him hope for one thing, then just fucking terrify him with another?
Anger was good, familiar, better than the shaking fear, but he was also exhausted and maintaining it was too hard. It got him through the door again, to the bedroom, and then the hurt and anxiety were both there again, but he had his guard up again, his shield. Because it seemed like rejection all over again, and after making it sound like he regretted it before, and Michael was spinning and confused and trying to hold on to the clearer, easier, safer emotion. You didn't show vulnerability like he just had; he knew better.
"What do you mean it doesn't matter?" he demanded. "You knew all this when you sent the first text--and it didn't matter who or what I might be, because you at least know I'm not a terrorist, and I was the boy you fell in love with and maybe you were sorry for walking away again? Or it doesn't matter, because you don't think I'm a national security threat, so don't need or want anything else to do with me, and you brought me up here to give me whatever you have, do the decent thing and warn me, and send me on my way out some kind of sentiment for something you once felt? Or it doesn't matter, because you may not know all the facts, but you actually do know me, and the facts don't change that? Do you even want to know more? Is that why I'm here? Did you send your dad away to give us a head start, or because you wanted to find a way for us to stay?"
And, goddammit, his voice had to go and break at the last part, and he felt like the kid no one ever wanted all over again, except Alex was the one person who had, but then he'd walked away, too, twice, and now seemed ready to do it all over again, after getting Michael's hopes up with those stupid fucking text messages.