At least ninety percent of the time, Leonard has no idea what he wants out of life, except away from Lewis, with Lisa in tow.
And.
Mick Rory is supposed to be included and involved in whatever future that might exist for him. He knows it. Feels that deep down in his core, like a fact.
Except, figuring out how he's supposed to slot in, exactly, has proven....confusing at best. There are days when he and Mick are like the perfect reflections of each other, all the pieces and parts of one fit smoothly with the ones of the other and they work together like a well-oiled machine; other days, they're more like oil and water with Mick's impulses driving him more than anything and Leonard's near-desperate need for calculations.
Today has been normal enough. There's an easy slide of tension leaving his shoulders as he settles on the well-worn couch in Mick's place, which has become a solace of sorts whenever he can manage to slip away from under his father's thumb. Lisa's settled in the room in the back for a nap because Leonard was lucky today-- she is at a stage of hard-pressed disagreement about naps most days, but... she must have been extra tired because she only gave the slightest fuss when he suggested it earlier.
Leonard has been turning over the possible ways this conversation might go for days now, and he still isn't sure he's in the right place to want to have it. Or if he will ever be. Because the answer could be something he isn't looking for. Or something he doesn't want, at all. Maybe Mick doesn't see it-- him, them-- the same way.
It was a glacier-slow build in Leonard's head to that view, anyway. Three years ago, 14 years old and in juvie, he never would have dreamed it would be quite like this. And he absolutely has no clue how to start this conversation.
How, after all, do you tell your best friend you kinda think you're into him?
"Anything worth watching on tv?"
That probably is not how that conversation should start. But at least words managed to make their way out of his mouth, right?
{No one ever told me the right words to say » younger days/teen years
And.
Mick Rory is supposed to be included and involved in whatever future that might exist for him. He knows it. Feels that deep down in his core, like a fact.
Except, figuring out how he's supposed to slot in, exactly, has proven....confusing at best. There are days when he and Mick are like the perfect reflections of each other, all the pieces and parts of one fit smoothly with the ones of the other and they work together like a well-oiled machine; other days, they're more like oil and water with Mick's impulses driving him more than anything and Leonard's near-desperate need for calculations.
Today has been normal enough. There's an easy slide of tension leaving his shoulders as he settles on the well-worn couch in Mick's place, which has become a solace of sorts whenever he can manage to slip away from under his father's thumb. Lisa's settled in the room in the back for a nap because Leonard was lucky today-- she is at a stage of hard-pressed disagreement about naps most days, but... she must have been extra tired because she only gave the slightest fuss when he suggested it earlier.
Leonard has been turning over the possible ways this conversation might go for days now, and he still isn't sure he's in the right place to want to have it. Or if he will ever be. Because the answer could be something he isn't looking for. Or something he doesn't want, at all. Maybe Mick doesn't see it-- him, them-- the same way.
It was a glacier-slow build in Leonard's head to that view, anyway. Three years ago, 14 years old and in juvie, he never would have dreamed it would be quite like this. And he absolutely has no clue how to start this conversation.
How, after all, do you tell your best friend you kinda think you're into him?
"Anything worth watching on tv?"
That probably is not how that conversation should start. But at least words managed to make their way out of his mouth, right?