[He blinks at that, caught off guard for a moment, though perhaps he shouldn't be. It's not unusual for her to compliment him, but the emphasis in her expression makes him pause before he says something playfully dismissive, to give her words the weight they deserve.
Maybe he doesn't always have the best opinion of himself, finding his flaws too easy to pick apart and overthink, while at the same time trying to project more bravado than he perhaps deserves, depending on the situation. But despite it all, he... he likes himself, who he grew up to become, who he's still growing into being. He's not as full of regret as someone who'd lived a poor life might be, facing off against the cliff of his inevitable demise far too soon. He can think back on so many good things, accomplishments and victories and so many good memories. Life has been hard, and harsh, and cruel. But so much of it was beautiful, too.
He squeezes her hand, lifting it up to his lips to kiss the back of it.]
I'm really lucky... I've got so much good in my life. There's a lot of people we'd have to line up and thank if we wanted to give credit how 'perfect' I actually am. [His voice softens.] But yeah... I'm glad he did, too. I'm not mad anymore, at him, or myself.
[Hiding it, not hiding it... he can't say for sure what would be the right decision, not really. The alternate version exists only as a grim imagination, not a reality he'd had to live through. He can't imagine it being better, though. He'd had 20 years of blissful ignorance, and his father had had a chance to know him here without that gloom hanging over their heads. It's a blessing, and he'll take it. No regrets.]
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Maybe he doesn't always have the best opinion of himself, finding his flaws too easy to pick apart and overthink, while at the same time trying to project more bravado than he perhaps deserves, depending on the situation. But despite it all, he... he likes himself, who he grew up to become, who he's still growing into being. He's not as full of regret as someone who'd lived a poor life might be, facing off against the cliff of his inevitable demise far too soon. He can think back on so many good things, accomplishments and victories and so many good memories. Life has been hard, and harsh, and cruel. But so much of it was beautiful, too.
He squeezes her hand, lifting it up to his lips to kiss the back of it.]
I'm really lucky... I've got so much good in my life. There's a lot of people we'd have to line up and thank if we wanted to give credit how 'perfect' I actually am. [His voice softens.] But yeah... I'm glad he did, too. I'm not mad anymore, at him, or myself.
[Hiding it, not hiding it... he can't say for sure what would be the right decision, not really. The alternate version exists only as a grim imagination, not a reality he'd had to live through. He can't imagine it being better, though. He'd had 20 years of blissful ignorance, and his father had had a chance to know him here without that gloom hanging over their heads. It's a blessing, and he'll take it. No regrets.]