[It's not intentional, the way he flinches a little at the feeling of her lips on his cheek, but he knows she'll notice, and there's every chance she'll say something, and what's he supposed to tell her? That he not only doesn't want to see his friends -- his "friends," because truly, how many of them really qualify? -- but that he doesn't want to see her, either? That right now, he's having a hard time even knowing how he's going to look Tommy in the face, when all he'll see reflected back at him is Angela?]
I don't wanna stay with you.
[It comes out almost petulant, and a little slurred, and he winces at the sound of his own voice. Has it always been quite so pathetic, or is it just that way around his mother? She's always told him that he'll be a king someday, that he'll have his rightful place, and he believes that she loves him, he does, but...
But. She always acts as though she knows him, more than he knows himself, and in this state -- maybe in any state, maybe he'd just been too blind to see it before -- it makes anger rise within him, quick and hot as always.
He chokes it back with some effort. He strikes a tone that almost approaches confidence, that he hopes might do something towards reassuring her that he doesn't need to be watched after, that he doesn't need anyone to pry.]
You're right. [She'll like to hear that, won't she? She always does.] I've gotta figure it out on my own.
[She exhales sharply at that, a small, silent noise of frustration at how headstrong he is being. She catches the little flinch he makes, the bizarre aversion to touch, from his own mother! As if she would ever do a thing to harm him or deliberately make him uncomfortable. She smoothes her hand over his hair, affectionately petting him, but the sugary sweetness in her voice hides an bitter strength. Stubbornness, after all, runs in the blood.]
It's not about what you want, dear. It's about what's best for you.
[She touches him with more intimacy than a parent should touch her child. But doesn't that just show how much love she holds in her heart for him? Her world is nothing without him, and in this state of wrecked despair, he needs her more than ever, even if she must make the decision for him.
She pulls away, at last, still leaning over him but perhaps not so close. Having already closed the conversation in her mind, she reaches down to give his hand a pleased little squeeze, her warm fingers pressing over where it rests on his thigh.]
You're coming to stay with me.
[After all, there is no option for defiance in her perfect world, with her perfect son.]
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no subject
I don't wanna stay with you.
[It comes out almost petulant, and a little slurred, and he winces at the sound of his own voice. Has it always been quite so pathetic, or is it just that way around his mother? She's always told him that he'll be a king someday, that he'll have his rightful place, and he believes that she loves him, he does, but...
But. She always acts as though she knows him, more than he knows himself, and in this state -- maybe in any state, maybe he'd just been too blind to see it before -- it makes anger rise within him, quick and hot as always.
He chokes it back with some effort. He strikes a tone that almost approaches confidence, that he hopes might do something towards reassuring her that he doesn't need to be watched after, that he doesn't need anyone to pry.]
You're right. [She'll like to hear that, won't she? She always does.] I've gotta figure it out on my own.
no subject
It's not about what you want, dear. It's about what's best for you.
[She touches him with more intimacy than a parent should touch her child. But doesn't that just show how much love she holds in her heart for him? Her world is nothing without him, and in this state of wrecked despair, he needs her more than ever, even if she must make the decision for him.
She pulls away, at last, still leaning over him but perhaps not so close. Having already closed the conversation in her mind, she reaches down to give his hand a pleased little squeeze, her warm fingers pressing over where it rests on his thigh.]
You're coming to stay with me.
[After all, there is no option for defiance in her perfect world, with her perfect son.]