He hadn't spoken to Felipe since the day when, at not quite eighteen, he'd been told he wasn't welcome in that house as long as he persisted with boys instead of girls. He'd spoken to his mother, occasionally, and Bethany liked to assure him that his father loved him, but was merely traditional. But he didn't think his mother really understand the effect it had on him. His father had rejected him.
It had made every relationship that subsequently failed feel like a rejection, as well. Some of them had been, truthfully, when it became clear that he was more complicated than the surface version of himself - that he was more than just a quiet guard, that he was hardly what most people thought of as normal. He was tired from it, he thought; not just tired of it, but tired from it. And perhaps that was a little...weak of him, really. He hadn't suffered a Patrick. He hadn't even had parents like the Novaks. The Sánchezes had been benign in their neglect. It hadn't been deliberate, but based on the fact that Carlos had been the least worrisome of their five children, at least until the end.
He didn't quite meet Hadyn's eyes, not wanting him to see the expression on his face. Frankly, not wanting to really see the expression on Hadyn's face, either. Gael was more shattered than he'd ever been; Carlos hadn't been allowed to break at seventeen, not with the Kagans there to catch him. His wounds had always been less...catastrophic, he supposed. Certainly they were healed over and scarred by now. He shouldn't be so afraid of someone ripping them open again. But he was. The answer to Hadyn's question was that yes, Carlos was afraid of the rejection, whether that came in the form of Gael disappearing from his bed and into someone else's - or in the form of Gael deciding it was easier to just get away from the pain completely. It was a thought he'd had, one he'd never shared and never let bubble to the surface - but if he'd had it, how could he blame Gael for feeling the same?
His lips tightened into the ghost of a smile, one devoid of humor or joy as he pushed the soda away from himself. "You make it sound simple," he said. Not easy, no - but simple. Like it was just a matter of fighting for his happiness in order to get it. He knew that wasn't really true. He'd fought tooth and nail for things before in his life and ended up with nothing. He supposed that was his other fear. He could fight tooth and nail for Gael. He could hold on tight, and he could still end up with less than before. It was, frankly, the most likely result. "But I don't think I can walk away, either. So there's not really much of a choice, is there?"
no subject
It had made every relationship that subsequently failed feel like a rejection, as well. Some of them had been, truthfully, when it became clear that he was more complicated than the surface version of himself - that he was more than just a quiet guard, that he was hardly what most people thought of as normal. He was tired from it, he thought; not just tired of it, but tired from it. And perhaps that was a little...weak of him, really. He hadn't suffered a Patrick. He hadn't even had parents like the Novaks. The Sánchezes had been benign in their neglect. It hadn't been deliberate, but based on the fact that Carlos had been the least worrisome of their five children, at least until the end.
He didn't quite meet Hadyn's eyes, not wanting him to see the expression on his face. Frankly, not wanting to really see the expression on Hadyn's face, either. Gael was more shattered than he'd ever been; Carlos hadn't been allowed to break at seventeen, not with the Kagans there to catch him. His wounds had always been less...catastrophic, he supposed. Certainly they were healed over and scarred by now. He shouldn't be so afraid of someone ripping them open again. But he was. The answer to Hadyn's question was that yes, Carlos was afraid of the rejection, whether that came in the form of Gael disappearing from his bed and into someone else's - or in the form of Gael deciding it was easier to just get away from the pain completely. It was a thought he'd had, one he'd never shared and never let bubble to the surface - but if he'd had it, how could he blame Gael for feeling the same?
His lips tightened into the ghost of a smile, one devoid of humor or joy as he pushed the soda away from himself. "You make it sound simple," he said. Not easy, no - but simple. Like it was just a matter of fighting for his happiness in order to get it. He knew that wasn't really true. He'd fought tooth and nail for things before in his life and ended up with nothing. He supposed that was his other fear. He could fight tooth and nail for Gael. He could hold on tight, and he could still end up with less than before. It was, frankly, the most likely result. "But I don't think I can walk away, either. So there's not really much of a choice, is there?"