That's a lie and you need to stop lying to yourself. You're something treasured, even by me.
[ Yreasured by everyone in the family— a sensation Karamatsu knows he'll never get to receive. He's jealous beyond reason for that, and having Ichimatsu act this way just makes it even more frustrating for him. ]
You don't know what it's like to not be treasured. [ Karamatsu sounds firm and not exactly angry, but the look on his face says otherwise. ]
Oh, so now it's my fault that everybody chooses to baby me? I didn't ask to be a sorry sack of useless garbage, Karamatsu. I don't ask for the attention.
[His fingers curl into the sleeves of his sweater, so that his knuckles go white and his hands shake.]
[ calmly, calmly, Karamatsu. He notes how tightly Ichimatsu is curling his knuckles, and he does his best to suppress his own feelings as he always does— to lash out and retaliate, 'I don't ask to be somebody unloved— to be treated like a sack of useless garbage, Ichimatsu. I don't ask to be ignored.' He swallows thickly before speaking. ]
I never said that. It's.. nobody's fault but my own. [ It's my fault I'm not somebody worth loving. It's my fault I'm embarrassing. It's my fault I'm weak. It's my fault I'm lying to everyone.
He gently reaches out, pressing his palm into Ichimatsu's arm, fingers curving around it. He smiles, softly and sadly. ]
I'm merely just.. jealous. And it's my own fault. [ It takes so much for him to confess something like this, he feels tears pushing to the corners of his eyes. ]
[His face twists up, like he's swallowed a bug or something sour, and he just ducks his head into his arms for a while. He's very methodical about how he breathes, then, for a long few seconds, taking careful gasps of air and holding them before exhaling slowly. He lifts his head up nearly a full two minutes later, and he just looks tired and maybe a little paler than usual. His eyes might be a touch red, but he'd deny it if Karamatsu brought it up.]
...if you repeat this I'll gut you and use you as fertilizer, but... We're a lot more alike than I think either of us realize.
[ Karamatsu awkwardly sits there, allowing Ichimatsu to press his head to his arms— he assumes he's crying and that's alright.. even if it's something that Karamatsu doesn't see Ichimatsu do often.
The words out of his mouth make him take in a soft inhale, finally blinking a few tears away of his own. Usually he would hide his tears, or cry when nobody else was around, but doing something like this is a huge step for him. ]
Y..You think so? [ He's a little dumb, remember. You're going to have to talk about it, Ichimatsu. ]
H.. How can I forget something like that? [ it was almost a delusion: somebody actually was trying to be him. Not like Karamatsu is smart enough to figure that out, but: ]
If you ask, you can try my things on again. [ that's not why he brought this up, buddy.. ]
[He exhales in a shaking, gusty sound, unfolding his arms in favor of covering his face with his hands and rubbing his fingertips into his eyes for a moment. They come away damp.]
...I did that because I'm jealous of your sense of self, Karamatsu.
[ Watching Ichimats cry is... something else. It's weird seeing his brother show such an emotion when he's usually hard to read or is showing something of hatred instead of sadness. To hear Ichimatsu confess something like that, though.. ]
There's.. nothing to be jealous of, Ichimatsu.
[ a pause. ]
I'm... faking most of the time, anyway. How else am I supposed to be confident— be strong— if I don't show myself and everyone else that I love myself? [ —when he doesn't, actually. Every time he tries to, he gets knocked down by the rest of the world. ]
I said your sense of self for a reason, Karamatsu. I know you're faking it, I think we all do. You're a dramatic fool but you're not the callous asshole you pretend to be half of your life.
[There's a sick little smile on his face, twisted up at the corners like he's having a hard time with the expression.]
But you have an idea of who you are, and you show that. An idea, maybe, of who you want to be. Faking or otherwise, there's a definitive concept there.
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[He says that almost dully, but still somehow laced with a venomous amount of self-hatred. He pulls his knees closer still.]
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[ Yreasured by everyone in the family— a sensation Karamatsu knows he'll never get to receive. He's jealous beyond reason for that, and having Ichimatsu act this way just makes it even more frustrating for him. ]
You don't know what it's like to not be treasured.
[ Karamatsu sounds firm and not exactly angry, but the look on his face says otherwise. ]
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[His fingers curl into the sleeves of his sweater, so that his knuckles go white and his hands shake.]
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I never said that. It's.. nobody's fault but my own.
[ It's my fault I'm not somebody worth loving.
It's my fault I'm embarrassing.
It's my fault I'm weak.
It's my fault I'm lying to everyone.
He gently reaches out, pressing his palm into Ichimatsu's arm, fingers curving around it. He smiles, softly and sadly. ]
I'm merely just.. jealous. And it's my own fault.
[ It takes so much for him to confess something like this, he feels tears pushing to the corners of his eyes. ]
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...if you repeat this I'll gut you and use you as fertilizer, but... We're a lot more alike than I think either of us realize.
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The words out of his mouth make him take in a soft inhale, finally blinking a few tears away of his own. Usually he would hide his tears, or cry when nobody else was around, but doing something like this is a huge step for him. ]
Y..You think so?
[ He's a little dumb, remember. You're going to have to talk about it, Ichimatsu. ]
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I mean you're completely an idiot and I'm only sometimes an idiot, usually, but... Hell, do you remember when Osomatsu caught me in your clothes?
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[ it was almost a delusion: somebody actually was trying to be him. Not like Karamatsu is smart enough to figure that out, but: ]
If you ask, you can try my things on again.
[ that's not why he brought this up, buddy.. ]
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...I did that because I'm jealous of your sense of self, Karamatsu.
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There's.. nothing to be jealous of, Ichimatsu.
[ a pause. ]
I'm... faking most of the time, anyway. How else am I supposed to be confident— be strong— if I don't show myself and everyone else that I love myself?
[ —when he doesn't, actually. Every time he tries to, he gets knocked down by the rest of the world. ]
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[There's a sick little smile on his face, twisted up at the corners like he's having a hard time with the expression.]
But you have an idea of who you are, and you show that. An idea, maybe, of who you want to be. Faking or otherwise, there's a definitive concept there.