It’s not dying I’m afraid of
Her gaze softens as he speaks, confused, and she smiles and shakes her head at him slightly. ”Exactly, I said I want you there. You keep using the words want and need like they are interchangeable, but they do not mean the same thing.” A pause, a pointed look. ”And you keep acting like you don’t want to be there. You keep acting like if you aren’t there, everything will crumble around me because I can’t do anything on my own. You keep acting like a martyr who's been asked to fall on his own sword. Which is kind of insulting, you know.”
It’d been starting to piss her off, but in this setting, the words aren’t angry. She’s just giving him the truth, laying it before him so maybe he will realize. In any other situation, it may have been a much worse fight.
”If you want to be there, the bar is yours as much as it is mine. Or it can be, anyway. But if you don’t want that, that’s okay too. I just want my brother, not slave labor.” They could make it theirs, if he’d join her. If that was the path he wanted to take, she’d let him carve out some part of it for himself and make it feel like his too. But she wasn’t sure that was his path, and maybe she needed to help him realize the door was open. He was not a captive to her whims.
It’d been starting to piss her off, but in this setting, the words aren’t angry. She’s just giving him the truth, laying it before him so maybe he will realize. In any other situation, it may have been a much worse fight.
”If you want to be there, the bar is yours as much as it is mine. Or it can be, anyway. But if you don’t want that, that’s okay too. I just want my brother, not slave labor.” They could make it theirs, if he’d join her. If that was the path he wanted to take, she’d let him carve out some part of it for himself and make it feel like his too. But she wasn’t sure that was his path, and maybe she needed to help him realize the door was open. He was not a captive to her whims.
weaver
it’s dying without ever having lived
