They were good people, true. [He smiles, a bit rueful as it strikes him that at the very least, he ought to be able to see them. It's the afterlife isn't it? Where are all the dearly departed hiding out?
It's no use getting blue over it now. Save it for a bit of solitude, he's got company at the moment.]
That's real sweet of you, kiddo, but don't worry about it. You've got enough on your plate as is.
[As he handily details himself. Richie turns pensive again, picking apart the implications.]
Didn't know what to do? Could they not afford to take care of you?
[ he's about to respond that yves actually doesn't think he has much on his plate at all - when the question comes. and he supposes that was inevitable. it's a good question to ask.
he doesn't seem that bothered by it, but he just offers a little bit of a sheepish smile ]
I don't mind saying, but... it's a bit of a sad story. Is that okay?
[It still doesn't sit so easy. They just got here. His burger's cooling down and the kid's not even got a meal himself. Richie pushes the fries and drink closer to him. Eat up, babychild.]
Well, I'm pretty hard to bowl over. I promise a sad tale or two won't weigh me down. I've heard plenty in my life.
[ yves will pick up a fry and just chew on them, thinking for a moment about how he wants to phrase this. is there a way to make it less sad? even if richie says this, which is very kind of him and only makes yves like him more. but it is when yves likes people that he wants nothing more than to bring them happiness.
and like he said - it's not a happy story. ]
I wasn't born with - this. [ and as if to lighten things up just a little, he uses the fry in his hand to indicate briefly toward the mask on his face. black lace over discolored skin, obscuring what's beneath. ] Until I was eleven, I really did live a happy life with my parents and my grandfather.
But I was visiting my friends in an orphanage one day when a fire broke out. I did what I could to help the people inside, but... I got burned on the way. It's not—a normal burn. People can't stand to look at it. I got really lucky when this kind merchant gave me this mask but...
Before then, my parents thought that the mark left on me meant I was possessed by death. A demon. And if you're... accused of being the demon, it's hard to convince people that you're not one. So they did their best and tried to kill the demon.
[ eats fry ]
Mm... but the orphanage found me and took me in before my injuries took me out. So it's okay.
It's the sort of tale you need to give pause for. Think it over a moment, let the salt and vinegar really grind in the wound.
The thing is, he can't wrap his head around it. In a world where a guy can drop off his DNA at a lab and come back a day later to collect his own clone, how did Dark Ages superstition figure into the picture? The existence of the former ought to nix the other. You can't hit that level of technology and still believe in death omens. Commit a witch hunt.
Because for all intents and purposes, that's what it was. Practically fifteen hundred and something in Merry Old England, screwing thumbs under some poor bird's nails because the butter came out bad when she churned it. The only thing Yves did wrong was survive a fucking fire.]
...I'm sorry. That's... [He grimaces. Looks down at his food. His appetite seems to have vanished. Richie pushes the paper packaging a few inches away, the burger along with it.] Unimaginably cruel. The worst thing you could do to a kid. Their kid.
[ richie he warned you... he feels a little bit bad about the burger, but he doesn't protest. though there's just a little bit of guilt in his eyes. ]
They did what they could for me, but they couldn't really stand to look at me either. It's alright, I think they were trying to do their best... even if their best at the time was pity.
[ and yves keeps telling the story with a hint of sadness, but there's not a hint of contempt. not even a whisper of actual upset. ]
I was lucky when this kind merchant came by one day and gave me this mask... and people reacted to me better after that, so that was good.
WHO GAVE YOU THE SPEED OF THE DEVIL, BREAKS YOUR FINGERS
The only time the best thing to do is kill somebody is when they're in too much pain to carry on, or they're trying to kill you. I don't care what they believed. [Sorry. Strong feelings on this one. He wipes his mouth. Thinking.]
I had... [It's gonna sound trite. Very much so. But it's the best he's got.] A couple of friends of mine, growing up. They had a rough one too, a few with their folks. All of us with other kids. My buddy Bill, he got hit by a car as a toddler — like a big, motorized carriage. Several tons of steel. He's damn lucky to be alive, but it left him with a wicked stutter. He was a sharp kid, but he spoke slow, if he could spit out the words at all. School was hell on him for it, and people treated him like a drag, when all he wanted was to be treated like a kid.
And Mike...Well. Mike Hanlon was the son of the only black family in Derry. Not a small town, but most certainly a white one. Another kid poisoned his dog, just because he happened to look different. And Ben Hanscom, his big crime was being fat, and being smart. That same kid made to carve his name on his belly when he refused to let him cheat off his test. Got the full "H" in before old Ben could up and split.
Beverly... [But then, he doesn't want to talk much about that. Things that happen to young girls — even if it's only a might-have-happened, even if the threat only stayed a threat — they get too easily sensationalized. It makes him sick, thinking of the way her daddy was. Makes him sick to bring it up now, as if he's laying her bare for some selfish purpose. Best leave that one undeclared.
Richie holds in the silence. Staring somewhere far away.]
Point is, [He carries on at last, taking a weary breath.] a man can drum up any old reason to hate somebody. Anything at all. Never has to make sense, and rarely is it deserved. Think on that, all right?
It's one thing to forgive a person for the way they treat you. That's fine. But you don't have to accept it was the only way they could. It never is.
Edited (i mispelled my SON'S NAME I'M SORRY BEN ILU!!!!) 2025-02-12 18:28 (UTC)
[ yves doesn't even disagree with richie really - but there is something in his brain that fails to compute the ability to properly blame his own family.
even so, that emotional process isn't broken on behalf of other people. he listens to richie's stories of his friends, and he frowns - winces in some places - because he doesn't like it. he doesn't like to hear the ways in which people suffer, and the cruelty that others are capable of. ]
... mm. I understand. Then for me—on my behalf—I forgive them.
[ easily. too easily, for other people. but for yves, the sincerity is the only emotion to be found ]
... but I'm sorry to hear about your friends, Monsieur Richie. [ the way he normally doesn't keep up the etiquette, but richie is now up there with lucas on People Trying to Teach Yves Things ] They didn't deserve any of that.
I'm glad they had you for a friend, at least. I know that sometimes having a good friend at your side can be enough to make the days worth seeing.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
It's no use getting blue over it now. Save it for a bit of solitude, he's got company at the moment.]
That's real sweet of you, kiddo, but don't worry about it. You've got enough on your plate as is.
[As he handily details himself. Richie turns pensive again, picking apart the implications.]
Didn't know what to do? Could they not afford to take care of you?
no subject
he doesn't seem that bothered by it, but he just offers a little bit of a sheepish smile ]
I don't mind saying, but... it's a bit of a sad story. Is that okay?
no subject
[He claps the kid on the shoulder, gives him a gamely little shake.]
I don't mind if you don't, really. Life's full of tragedies. But I mean it, you don't have to go digging up your dirt just because someone asks.
no subject
I know I don't - but some folks have trouble opening up to strangers, don't they? So I don't mind being the first one to share when it comes up.
It doesn't really make me sad... but I don't like being the reason other people are.
no subject
Well, I'm pretty hard to bowl over. I promise a sad tale or two won't weigh me down. I've heard plenty in my life.
cw: child abuse
[ yves will pick up a fry and just chew on them, thinking for a moment about how he wants to phrase this. is there a way to make it less sad? even if richie says this, which is very kind of him and only makes yves like him more. but it is when yves likes people that he wants nothing more than to bring them happiness.
and like he said - it's not a happy story. ]
I wasn't born with - this. [ and as if to lighten things up just a little, he uses the fry in his hand to indicate briefly toward the mask on his face. black lace over discolored skin, obscuring what's beneath. ] Until I was eleven, I really did live a happy life with my parents and my grandfather.
But I was visiting my friends in an orphanage one day when a fire broke out. I did what I could to help the people inside, but... I got burned on the way. It's not—a normal burn. People can't stand to look at it. I got really lucky when this kind merchant gave me this mask but...
Before then, my parents thought that the mark left on me meant I was possessed by death. A demon. And if you're... accused of being the demon, it's hard to convince people that you're not one. So they did their best and tried to kill the demon.
[ eats fry ]
Mm... but the orphanage found me and took me in before my injuries took me out. So it's okay.
no subject
It's the sort of tale you need to give pause for. Think it over a moment, let the salt and vinegar really grind in the wound.
The thing is, he can't wrap his head around it. In a world where a guy can drop off his DNA at a lab and come back a day later to collect his own clone, how did Dark Ages superstition figure into the picture? The existence of the former ought to nix the other. You can't hit that level of technology and still believe in death omens. Commit a witch hunt.
Because for all intents and purposes, that's what it was. Practically fifteen hundred and something in Merry Old England, screwing thumbs under some poor bird's nails because the butter came out bad when she churned it. The only thing Yves did wrong was survive a fucking fire.]
...I'm sorry. That's... [He grimaces. Looks down at his food. His appetite seems to have vanished. Richie pushes the paper packaging a few inches away, the burger along with it.] Unimaginably cruel. The worst thing you could do to a kid. Their kid.
What happened after? With the orphanage?
[Were they good to him?]
no subject
They did what they could for me, but they couldn't really stand to look at me either. It's alright, I think they were trying to do their best... even if their best at the time was pity.
[ and yves keeps telling the story with a hint of sadness, but there's not a hint of contempt. not even a whisper of actual upset. ]
I was lucky when this kind merchant came by one day and gave me this mask... and people reacted to me better after that, so that was good.
WHO GAVE YOU THE SPEED OF THE DEVIL, BREAKS YOUR FINGERS
I had... [It's gonna sound trite. Very much so. But it's the best he's got.] A couple of friends of mine, growing up. They had a rough one too, a few with their folks. All of us with other kids. My buddy Bill, he got hit by a car as a toddler — like a big, motorized carriage. Several tons of steel. He's damn lucky to be alive, but it left him with a wicked stutter. He was a sharp kid, but he spoke slow, if he could spit out the words at all. School was hell on him for it, and people treated him like a drag, when all he wanted was to be treated like a kid.
And Mike...Well. Mike Hanlon was the son of the only black family in Derry. Not a small town, but most certainly a white one. Another kid poisoned his dog, just because he happened to look different. And Ben Hanscom, his big crime was being fat, and being smart. That same kid made to carve his name on his belly when he refused to let him cheat off his test. Got the full "H" in before old Ben could up and split.
Beverly... [But then, he doesn't want to talk much about that. Things that happen to young girls — even if it's only a might-have-happened, even if the threat only stayed a threat — they get too easily sensationalized. It makes him sick, thinking of the way her daddy was. Makes him sick to bring it up now, as if he's laying her bare for some selfish purpose. Best leave that one undeclared.
Richie holds in the silence. Staring somewhere far away.]
Point is, [He carries on at last, taking a weary breath.] a man can drum up any old reason to hate somebody. Anything at all. Never has to make sense, and rarely is it deserved. Think on that, all right?
It's one thing to forgive a person for the way they treat you. That's fine. But you don't have to accept it was the only way they could. It never is.
no subject
even so, that emotional process isn't broken on behalf of other people. he listens to richie's stories of his friends, and he frowns - winces in some places - because he doesn't like it. he doesn't like to hear the ways in which people suffer, and the cruelty that others are capable of. ]
... mm. I understand. Then for me—on my behalf—I forgive them.
[ easily. too easily, for other people. but for yves, the sincerity is the only emotion to be found ]
... but I'm sorry to hear about your friends, Monsieur Richie. [ the way he normally doesn't keep up the etiquette, but richie is now up there with lucas on People Trying to Teach Yves Things ] They didn't deserve any of that.
I'm glad they had you for a friend, at least. I know that sometimes having a good friend at your side can be enough to make the days worth seeing.