[Once again, Asher's own buffoonery is what railroads him into silence. Of course that had been what Connor meant.]
No, yeah.
I think I got you.
[His tone veers from obtuse to aware in a matter of seconds as he lets his mind wander, thinking back to the awful thoughts that had clouded his mind in the first few months of arrival. He had been pulled from home at a pivotal turning point, having been rejected by his father and then Bonnie, an outcast amidst his classmates. Identity has always been something he struggled with and still is, but back then? Even his reflection in the mirror seemed ugly, especially when he was alone.]
I can't say I blame ya, though.
This place really messed me up.
[For the first time since he set foot on the grounds of Oska, he feels comfortable admitting that.]
[He falls into silence as Asher's words settle in. He finds himself thinking of the way in which metal is worked, thrust into the searing flames until it loses its original shape, beaten by a hammer until it takes to a new shape. The man who sits on his bed is much like that metal, and the new shape he has taken - not in appearance, but in a way more powerful, more enduring - becomes more apparent to Connor the more he speaks with him.
Although, speaking of Asher's present appearance...]
...I can't believe we're having this conversation while you're wearing dinosaur pajamas.
[Because putting Asher down is an easier route than considering his purpose here.]
[what is with your obnoxious need to abbreviate everything
He perks up all at once when Connor tries to make a petty jab at his boyfriend.]
Kung Beef rolls off the tongue a little better, and is probably slightly less racist, but-
[The mood, however, shifts when Connor settles down beside him, downtrodden. Asher sighs at those words, an accurate assessment of his attempts to do good, which are often naive and ill-planned.]
Kinda, sorta, maybe, I guess? I dunno.
I just didn't want you to feel like you had didn't have anybody lookin' out for ya.
[Like he had.]
Like, at least you when you got here there were people from your world around. When I squared T-F up, everybody just acted like I was totes bonker-balls, and that me not bein' cool with punchin' somebody's lights out on day one made me the weird one.
[He is about to comment on the irony of receiving lessons in how to be politically correct from the guy who had regularly referred to him by the questionable epithet of "bromo," but the sincerity of what next comes out of Asher's mouth finally softens his aloof resistance.]
...Thanks, Asher.
[Then he pushes his hands through his already messy hair, resting his elbows on his knees and swinging his gaze to the man beside him.]
I know I wasn't always the nicest to you...especially back then. Actually, I was pretty much an asshole to you. And I tried to be. So...it means a lot to know you have my back here.
[He doesn't need to say that he has no one else. That he should have Oliver, but their propensity for arguing has torn a rift between them.]
[What comes next is a gush of unwavering and unwanted emotion, overwhelming in capacity, enough to stun him into silence- Truly, a miraculous feat.
His heart has yearned for this form of affection for so very long, even this, the bare minimum. To simply be acknowledged, even by an individual who simply has no other options, is enough for Asher Millstone. Connor, unknowingly, has given the doughy ball of feelings hope for his return home, that maybe the kindness he's received here is not the result of some bizarre anomaly, and perhaps one day Annalise's chosen few will be able to truly work together as a real team.
Maybe there is a place for him at Middleton Law, one that is not lonely, or miserable, or...
Dark.]
That's okay.
[The reply comes out instantly, a typical bumble for a pushover like himself. Immediately, he corrects his mistake, even though it's clear that he is not used to doing so.]
Or well, it's not...
[He inhales sharply.]
I used to think that you all left me out of your little-
[Words escape him, and so he traces a circle in the air with a finger in a desperate attempt to portray the supposed closeness of the other four.]
Group thingy because you thought I was a loser... But maybe you were all just dealin' with your own stuff.
[understatement of the century]
So, don't worry about it.
[He utters the following without knowing how in this time and place his choice of speech defines him at his core-]
[His eyes avoid Asher, settling instead in the dim corners of the room. Despite the warmth that tinges this moment of reconciliation, this moment made endearing for its peculiarity by the hour and the goofy pajamas donned by the other, Connor cannot help the bitter note he scoffs. And perhaps it is the effect of the late hour, the exhaustion bearing down on his mind, that he lets slip something a little too close to the truth.]
You don't want to be a part of that group. Trust me...you're better off on the outside.
[The Asher he remembers would fall into their little cult of mutual secrets eventually, but the man beside him remains free of that circle which had become his prison even as he eluded jail time for his crimes. This Asher has little idea of the blessing his exlusion truly was.
Then, supposing that it is his turn to pay Asher some kindness, which from him comes awkwardly, rusty with disuse, he says:]
You may be obnoxious at times, and tactless, and your slang is embarrassingly outdated, but... [There's a compliment in here somewhere.] You're not a bad person. Your heart's usually in the right place.
[Connor says that without knowing the blood that has been shed as a result of his own incompetence, whether it be because he was unable to fight properly or too emotional to keep himself from falling farther. He does not know how years ago, Asher's ignorance and alleged silence condemned a young woman to face a horrible fate without the aid of legal counsel, a witness, or even a friend.
Then again, the Asher of yesterday is not the Asher of tomorrow or even the Asher that sits atop the bed this very moment, and those words are proof of how he has grown.]
I really wanna believe that.
[It is his turn to draw within himself, to pull his knees to his chest and crumple to pieces on the inside. Unspoken are the words, "I just don't know if I do."]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[there was supposed 2 b prose here about how deadpan asher's voice is butt lol
i'm sorry he's like this kathandra]
We're in Oska. You don't have anything important to do right now. You're not even boning another gay bro.
no subject
Didn't we just go over this? Where do you think I was a few hours ago?
[Not in his own bed, that's for sure.]
But allow me to rephrase that - it's not that I don't have time, it's just that I don't have enough fucks to give. Is that better?
cw: slight body image/dysmorphia mention?
No, yeah.
I think I got you.
[His tone veers from obtuse to aware in a matter of seconds as he lets his mind wander, thinking back to the awful thoughts that had clouded his mind in the first few months of arrival. He had been pulled from home at a pivotal turning point, having been rejected by his father and then Bonnie, an outcast amidst his classmates. Identity has always been something he struggled with and still is, but back then? Even his reflection in the mirror seemed ugly, especially when he was alone.]
I can't say I blame ya, though.
This place really messed me up.
[For the first time since he set foot on the grounds of Oska, he feels comfortable admitting that.]
i'm sorry
Although, speaking of Asher's present appearance...]
...I can't believe we're having this conversation while you're wearing dinosaur pajamas.
[Because putting Asher down is an easier route than considering his purpose here.]
no subject
[Look at him falling over himself.]
It may not seem like it, but these killer threads-
[please don't gesture to ur lumpy breadboy body like dat]
Happen to be a major hit with the ladies.
[u mean... lucina and sonia
two hot girls who would never date u.]
no subject
Yeah, all the ladies you have to disappoint because you're with Kung Pao Beef.
[Will he ever use Jin's real name...]
Anyway, did you seriously just bust into my room at three in the morning to try to give me an inspirational speech?
no subject
[what is with your obnoxious need to abbreviate everything
He perks up all at once when Connor tries to make a petty jab at his boyfriend.]
Kung Beef rolls off the tongue a little better, and is probably slightly less racist, but-
[The mood, however, shifts when Connor settles down beside him, downtrodden. Asher sighs at those words, an accurate assessment of his attempts to do good, which are often naive and ill-planned.]
Kinda, sorta, maybe, I guess? I dunno.
I just didn't want you to feel like you had didn't have anybody lookin' out for ya.
[Like he had.]
Like, at least you when you got here there were people from your world around. When I squared T-F up, everybody just acted like I was totes bonker-balls, and that me not bein' cool with punchin' somebody's lights out on day one made me the weird one.
no subject
...Thanks, Asher.
[Then he pushes his hands through his already messy hair, resting his elbows on his knees and swinging his gaze to the man beside him.]
I know I wasn't always the nicest to you...especially back then. Actually, I was pretty much an asshole to you. And I tried to be. So...it means a lot to know you have my back here.
[He doesn't need to say that he has no one else. That he should have Oliver, but their propensity for arguing has torn a rift between them.]
sorry for the icon repeat fam
His heart has yearned for this form of affection for so very long, even this, the bare minimum. To simply be acknowledged, even by an individual who simply has no other options, is enough for Asher Millstone. Connor, unknowingly, has given the doughy ball of feelings hope for his return home, that maybe the kindness he's received here is not the result of some bizarre anomaly, and perhaps one day Annalise's chosen few will be able to truly work together as a real team.
Maybe there is a place for him at Middleton Law, one that is not lonely, or miserable, or...
Dark.]
That's okay.
[The reply comes out instantly, a typical bumble for a pushover like himself. Immediately, he corrects his mistake, even though it's clear that he is not used to doing so.]
Or well, it's not...
[He inhales sharply.]
I used to think that you all left me out of your little-
[Words escape him, and so he traces a circle in the air with a finger in a desperate attempt to portray the supposed closeness of the other four.]
Group thingy because you thought I was a loser... But maybe you were all just dealin' with your own stuff.
[understatement of the century]
So, don't worry about it.
[He utters the following without knowing how in this time and place his choice of speech defines him at his core-]
I forgive you.
no subject
You don't want to be a part of that group. Trust me...you're better off on the outside.
[The Asher he remembers would fall into their little cult of mutual secrets eventually, but the man beside him remains free of that circle which had become his prison even as he eluded jail time for his crimes. This Asher has little idea of the blessing his exlusion truly was.
Then, supposing that it is his turn to pay Asher some kindness, which from him comes awkwardly, rusty with disuse, he says:]
You may be obnoxious at times, and tactless, and your slang is embarrassingly outdated, but... [There's a compliment in here somewhere.] You're not a bad person. Your heart's usually in the right place.
no subject
Then again, the Asher of yesterday is not the Asher of tomorrow or even the Asher that sits atop the bed this very moment, and those words are proof of how he has grown.]
I really wanna believe that.
[It is his turn to draw within himself, to pull his knees to his chest and crumple to pieces on the inside. Unspoken are the words, "I just don't know if I do."]
Thanks.