[He's biting down hard on the inside of his cheek, frustrated and uncertain. It doesn't seem, logically, like he's done anything wrong by lying. But it feels like he has. Lying to Carlos feels as wrong as killing someone, wronger — like hurting something helpless. Not that Carlos is helpless, but the way Carlos cares for him is so . . . strange and unhurtful, impossible to understand, that it ought to be protected.]
[So he shouldn't lie to Carlos. He shouldn't. The inside of his cheek hurts. He's really sad.]
No, you're right. I shouldn't lie to you. I just . . . do, usually. Lie. To everyone. Unless they ask, and even then . . .
[He gives a brittle smile.]
I don't want anyone to know? That I'm sad. I don't want anyone to know because if I'm lonely then people will try to take care of me and I don't, I can't, I don't know . . . how to let that happen. It doesn't feel good. It sc— I don't like it, Carlos, I don't.
no subject
[He's biting down hard on the inside of his cheek, frustrated and uncertain. It doesn't seem, logically, like he's done anything wrong by lying. But it feels like he has. Lying to Carlos feels as wrong as killing someone, wronger — like hurting something helpless. Not that Carlos is helpless, but the way Carlos cares for him is so . . . strange and unhurtful, impossible to understand, that it ought to be protected.]
[So he shouldn't lie to Carlos. He shouldn't. The inside of his cheek hurts. He's really sad.]
No, you're right. I shouldn't lie to you. I just . . . do, usually. Lie. To everyone. Unless they ask, and even then . . .
[He gives a brittle smile.]
I don't want anyone to know? That I'm sad. I don't want anyone to know because if I'm lonely then people will try to take care of me and I don't, I can't, I don't know . . . how to let that happen. It doesn't feel good. It sc— I don't like it, Carlos, I don't.