[Prior keeps his own eyes open, the way he didn't, then. And maybe he's not watching what really happened anymore, maybe this is just part of the odd human capacity to fill in gaps, the way the eye compensates for its own blind spots, but he watches Louis' face in that flickering moment where there's still a choice. He could go to Prior, or he could leave.
Byerly will feel the flinch as the door closes.]
That was the last time I saw him. Four and a half years, and he walked out while I was unconscious and only came back for this. This is all four years made him responsible for, not vanishing utterly without goodbye. Sometimes when I sleep alone I still wake up imagining he's there.
[Behind them, Prior's discovered the choice made, and now he's finally letting himself cry.]
But I'm finding myself relieved, now, when he's not.
[It's taken a long time. And Prior still turns his head away from his own words, in this moment painfully true but worse to hear played back now. I hurt all over. I wish I was dead.
It's an odd, shameful thing, and Prior rarely allows himself shame. This is what he was laid low by, not the disease, not even the end of the world but by one very ordinary person leaving him abandoned to both. It's this moment that made it seem pointless to suffer on.
Very, very slowly, he unwraps his arms from their protective curl around his own body and lets himself hold Byerly instead. It's a small, simple transfer of trust, harder to make than he ever lets show.]
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[Prior keeps his own eyes open, the way he didn't, then. And maybe he's not watching what really happened anymore, maybe this is just part of the odd human capacity to fill in gaps, the way the eye compensates for its own blind spots, but he watches Louis' face in that flickering moment where there's still a choice. He could go to Prior, or he could leave.
Byerly will feel the flinch as the door closes.]
That was the last time I saw him. Four and a half years, and he walked out while I was unconscious and only came back for this. This is all four years made him responsible for, not vanishing utterly without goodbye. Sometimes when I sleep alone I still wake up imagining he's there.
[Behind them, Prior's discovered the choice made, and now he's finally letting himself cry.]
But I'm finding myself relieved, now, when he's not.
[It's taken a long time. And Prior still turns his head away from his own words, in this moment painfully true but worse to hear played back now. I hurt all over. I wish I was dead.
It's an odd, shameful thing, and Prior rarely allows himself shame. This is what he was laid low by, not the disease, not even the end of the world but by one very ordinary person leaving him abandoned to both. It's this moment that made it seem pointless to suffer on.
Very, very slowly, he unwraps his arms from their protective curl around his own body and lets himself hold Byerly instead. It's a small, simple transfer of trust, harder to make than he ever lets show.]