The problem with Barry, as Taako's always thought, is that he makes you feel sorry for him. Taako considers himself good at not taking pity on people, a skill beaten out of him after years of not being able to concentrate on anyone that wasn't him and Lup. But Barry makes it so fucking easy. He's had a hard life, no doubt. Taako knows the kind of horrors of the multiverse he's seen, because he was right there with him. But where the twins have a kind of shield they can never drop, Barry has always been soft. He still has rounded edges, a kindness to his smile, and pain that shows in his eyes. And it's something Taako can't break. It's something he can't bring himself to.
So that, finally that, he doesn't have a retort to.
Taako looks away, bringing his arms up to cross them, but it looks more like he's hugging himself as he tries not to shake.]
... You could, couldn't you?
[Fuck, why is he doing this, fuck, why is this what breaks him. He digs his nails into both arms, and can't look at him, can barely look at the floor.]
She did. How can I... know, really?
[How does he convince himself to hold onto that trust? How does not even a year with his memories engulf the ten he spent so hopelessly alone? His throat is tight, words heavy and for once, quiet.]
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The problem with Barry, as Taako's always thought, is that he makes you feel sorry for him. Taako considers himself good at not taking pity on people, a skill beaten out of him after years of not being able to concentrate on anyone that wasn't him and Lup. But Barry makes it so fucking easy. He's had a hard life, no doubt. Taako knows the kind of horrors of the multiverse he's seen, because he was right there with him. But where the twins have a kind of shield they can never drop, Barry has always been soft. He still has rounded edges, a kindness to his smile, and pain that shows in his eyes. And it's something Taako can't break. It's something he can't bring himself to.
So that, finally that, he doesn't have a retort to.
Taako looks away, bringing his arms up to cross them, but it looks more like he's hugging himself as he tries not to shake.]
... You could, couldn't you?
[Fuck, why is he doing this, fuck, why is this what breaks him. He digs his nails into both arms, and can't look at him, can barely look at the floor.]
She did. How can I... know, really?
[How does he convince himself to hold onto that trust? How does not even a year with his memories engulf the ten he spent so hopelessly alone? His throat is tight, words heavy and for once, quiet.]
'Ss easy to forget. That everyone's here at all.