[ Half of that means nothing to Neal. Another quarter has information he can't quite wrap his head around, literal as it seems to be--you get erased.
Alcohol swims through Neal's system, making him unsure how long he's been quiet. ]
You could say that about anyone. [ He rubs the corner of one eye. ] Anyone who puts themselves at risk to help other people, anyway, and you--you strike me as the type.
[ A ghost of an expression crosses his face, too brief and too small to be a smile. ] To become spring means accepting the risk of winter.
[ Maybe it's the booze that makes him say what he does next. Maybe it's Dean's own honesty. Maybe it's everything from the past two days, all the impossibility catching up with him and making him loose-tongued. Neal doesn't know.
His throat squeezes around the words, but he gets them out. ] Seeing it happen in front of you, knowing you should be the one on the other side of the equation--nothing can change that feeling.
[ And there's Keller in his head, telling him they're two of a kind, telling him he's only ever going to bring pain down on the ones he cares about. ]
But for another person to put that kind of significance on you, to believe you're worth that much--it has to count for something.
[ Value, after all, is almost entirely assigned. Rarity, beauty, effort involved. It's always someone else's choice, what a thing is worth, whether that thing is a vacation selfie taken from a New York street corner or a Raphael.
Whether it's a one-night stand or a best friend. ] You might not want to be the guy people love. But that someone does says more than denial can.
no subject
Alcohol swims through Neal's system, making him unsure how long he's been quiet. ]
You could say that about anyone. [ He rubs the corner of one eye. ] Anyone who puts themselves at risk to help other people, anyway, and you--you strike me as the type.
[ A ghost of an expression crosses his face, too brief and too small to be a smile. ] To become spring means accepting the risk of winter.
[ Maybe it's the booze that makes him say what he does next. Maybe it's Dean's own honesty. Maybe it's everything from the past two days, all the impossibility catching up with him and making him loose-tongued. Neal doesn't know.
His throat squeezes around the words, but he gets them out. ] Seeing it happen in front of you, knowing you should be the one on the other side of the equation--nothing can change that feeling.
[ And there's Keller in his head, telling him they're two of a kind, telling him he's only ever going to bring pain down on the ones he cares about. ]
But for another person to put that kind of significance on you, to believe you're worth that much--it has to count for something.
[ Value, after all, is almost entirely assigned. Rarity, beauty, effort involved. It's always someone else's choice, what a thing is worth, whether that thing is a vacation selfie taken from a New York street corner or a Raphael.
Whether it's a one-night stand or a best friend. ] You might not want to be the guy people love. But that someone does says more than denial can.