I don't trust anyone. I don't waste my thoughts on him.
[Yes, he's arguing, matching his own stubbornness.]
If you're bitten by the same snake twice, it's only natural to expect the third to act the same when it looks the same. Even if everything seems fine at first...
[And oh, now he's setting his jaw to get a clamp on that anger. At least he still has that emotion going for him.]
I was naive to believe anyone would measure up to him.
You don't waste thoughts on him, yet here you are. [Ian's eyes have narrowed, and the tilt of his jaw more than gives away his own anger even though he's keeping his tone steady.] Talking about snakes, your expectations - you've clearly thought about them a lot. Even what you've said, once bitten twice shy; doesn't that just further prove how you've already trusted him to be just like the others?
[And the distinction between Souji and them must be made clear. Ian's never had an opportunity to meet them, has never heard their stories - but he won't stand for Souji, his Souji, to be lumped in with anyone who has caused such pain. If there's one innocent person involved in any of this, then it's him.]
I'm the lucky one between us, I know that. I've had the opportunities you were never given. But you know that measuring him to Shiro - measuring anyone to Shiro - it won't work. You can't replace him.
He's not my boy. [And whether that was a slip or not, Ian looks pretty disgusted with himself for using that term again.] It's not my responsibility to think about him. He'll turn out like the others. Trust is too strong of a word to use with him, even if that's what I believe. It only bothers you because you don't want to accept it. You don't know what he's really like.
[He lowers his gaze, tapping on the table again.]
I've accepted no one else will compare to him. My happiness was ripped away from me every time I thought it might be within reach. My fate, my curse, is anger and sorrow. Life without him isn't worth living after all. That's what I've learned.
[There have been a few times in the past where Ian has wished - in that abstract way that people often do - that he could smack himself. Never has he felt that desire more strongly than now.]
Shiro would hate to hear you say that. [Ian knows that first-hand. Again, he's hyper-aware that he's the lucky one here - but even before getting to speak with Shiro again, some part of him had been aware of what he would have wanted.] Even if it's a life you live alone, you - we - owe it to him to make it a life worth living no matter what.
[His words are firm with conviction, if not a little cold. Because it's not just you you're living for, Ian. Your life has been paid for with Shiro's, and it's your duty to make sure his death doesn't become worthless.]
I'll accept that I might not know Souji [--it feels weird to use his name like this; Ian's never actually spoken his name to anyone else before--] as deeply as I want to. You're the one in the better position for that.
[His other self's gaze may be elsewhere, but that doesn't stop Ian from very deliberately trying to make eye contact.]
Considering the two of you come from the same place, I'm sure his motivations would be easy to be read once you spoke to him. What are you afraid of, then? That he'll be the boy he's supposed to be? That you'll have to admit you're wrong; that not every incarnation of him will be the same?
[Unsaid, of course, is the fear of the pain that meeting would doubtless bring. Ian's not an idiot; he's familiar with the burning dread, the terror, the salt in the wound that finally meeting a truly genuine Souji would cause.
But, sorry - he's also pissed off just enough to not care about treading over the subject terribly carefully.]
Even if it's not what Shiro wants to hear, I'm sure he'd understand.
[Of course, now Ian's back to frowning a bit while his other self continues speaking. He still has that horribly unamused, if not now a bit depressed, expression on his face.
Even if he hadn't realized it before, at least as far as consciously admitting it to himself, he knows that his other self has hit the issue on the head. Obviously, he'd never be able to hide things so easily. That fear of having to deal with whatever type of person Souji might be, whether the type he's used to or the type he'd always hoped for, neither one would be good. He'd rather not know at all, not deal with it, never have to see him again, because either way means at least numbing the pain rather than having to live with more of it.]
It's rare anyone here speaks to each other. After everything happened, it's really only happened once.
[Which... was fine for those two, he supposed, who had come out from it as badly as he had, but he hadn't been around for it.]
There's no point in speaking to him. The ones we share space with aren't enough to serve as more than temporary support. I'd rather not get involved in something that complicated.
'Shiro, I wasted the life I should have enjoyed for you. Instead of fighting to create a beautiful garden, I allowed weeds to choke anything that could have grown.' [Ian gives a moment for those bitter words to sink in, reaching out to wrap his hand around his still-warm cup. It's a soothing reminder to keep his anger in check, and he makes a conscious effort to tone down his distaste - though there's no concealing his scowl. It wasn't too long ago that he thought along those same lines, and even if he is frustrated with himself for having thought like that, it's no good to take that out on his other self.] Even if he understands, can you really be as selfish as that? Our lives were paid for with his; if you don't do everything you can to make it worthwhile, then you've failed him.
[He shakes his head, raising the cup to his lips for a much-needed taste of his coffee. He should have made it more bitter, but as it is the sharp taste goes a long way in grounding his mood.]
Even if you're determined to not let him close to you... Let him say goodbye. You know how it feels, to have your best friend torn from you so suddenly. You don't have to trust him to acknowledge what it is you've put him through.
Shiro didn't sacrifice his life for me. He didn't die in an honorable way so that I could continue living for him. He died with little ceremony, in a horribly unworthy way, because of my mistake. Shiro deserved better.
[There's that flare of anger again, especially present when it comes to Shiro, because Ian blames himself the most for that. Everything that has gone wrong has most likely been his fault in some way, he's convinced himself, because he wouldn't be abandoned twice if it wasn't. Shiro, however... Shiro wouldn't have left him. ... right?
So while Ian does his best to process everything, he knows that's who his heart reaches for even if he feels unworthy, because Shiro never had a chance to break his heart.]
I didn't put your boy through anything. There's no point in talking to him. He brought searching for me upon himself.
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[Yes, he's arguing, matching his own stubbornness.]
If you're bitten by the same snake twice, it's only natural to expect the third to act the same when it looks the same. Even if everything seems fine at first...
[And oh, now he's setting his jaw to get a clamp on that anger. At least he still has that emotion going for him.]
I was naive to believe anyone would measure up to him.
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[And the distinction between Souji and them must be made clear. Ian's never had an opportunity to meet them, has never heard their stories - but he won't stand for Souji, his Souji, to be lumped in with anyone who has caused such pain. If there's one innocent person involved in any of this, then it's him.]
I'm the lucky one between us, I know that. I've had the opportunities you were never given. But you know that measuring him to Shiro - measuring anyone to Shiro - it won't work. You can't replace him.
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[He lowers his gaze, tapping on the table again.]
I've accepted no one else will compare to him. My happiness was ripped away from me every time I thought it might be within reach. My fate, my curse, is anger and sorrow. Life without him isn't worth living after all. That's what I've learned.
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Shiro would hate to hear you say that. [Ian knows that first-hand. Again, he's hyper-aware that he's the lucky one here - but even before getting to speak with Shiro again, some part of him had been aware of what he would have wanted.] Even if it's a life you live alone, you - we - owe it to him to make it a life worth living no matter what.
[His words are firm with conviction, if not a little cold. Because it's not just you you're living for, Ian. Your life has been paid for with Shiro's, and it's your duty to make sure his death doesn't become worthless.]
I'll accept that I might not know Souji [--it feels weird to use his name like this; Ian's never actually spoken his name to anyone else before--] as deeply as I want to. You're the one in the better position for that.
[His other self's gaze may be elsewhere, but that doesn't stop Ian from very deliberately trying to make eye contact.]
Considering the two of you come from the same place, I'm sure his motivations would be easy to be read once you spoke to him. What are you afraid of, then? That he'll be the boy he's supposed to be? That you'll have to admit you're wrong; that not every incarnation of him will be the same?
[Unsaid, of course, is the fear of the pain that meeting would doubtless bring. Ian's not an idiot; he's familiar with the burning dread, the terror, the salt in the wound that finally meeting a truly genuine Souji would cause.
But, sorry - he's also pissed off just enough to not care about treading over the subject terribly carefully.]
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[Of course, now Ian's back to frowning a bit while his other self continues speaking. He still has that horribly unamused, if not now a bit depressed, expression on his face.
Even if he hadn't realized it before, at least as far as consciously admitting it to himself, he knows that his other self has hit the issue on the head. Obviously, he'd never be able to hide things so easily. That fear of having to deal with whatever type of person Souji might be, whether the type he's used to or the type he'd always hoped for, neither one would be good. He'd rather not know at all, not deal with it, never have to see him again, because either way means at least numbing the pain rather than having to live with more of it.]
It's rare anyone here speaks to each other. After everything happened, it's really only happened once.
[Which... was fine for those two, he supposed, who had come out from it as badly as he had, but he hadn't been around for it.]
There's no point in speaking to him. The ones we share space with aren't enough to serve as more than temporary support. I'd rather not get involved in something that complicated.
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[He shakes his head, raising the cup to his lips for a much-needed taste of his coffee. He should have made it more bitter, but as it is the sharp taste goes a long way in grounding his mood.]
Even if you're determined to not let him close to you... Let him say goodbye. You know how it feels, to have your best friend torn from you so suddenly. You don't have to trust him to acknowledge what it is you've put him through.
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[There's that flare of anger again, especially present when it comes to Shiro, because Ian blames himself the most for that. Everything that has gone wrong has most likely been his fault in some way, he's convinced himself, because he wouldn't be abandoned twice if it wasn't. Shiro, however... Shiro wouldn't have left him. ... right?
So while Ian does his best to process everything, he knows that's who his heart reaches for even if he feels unworthy, because Shiro never had a chance to break his heart.]
I didn't put your boy through anything. There's no point in talking to him. He brought searching for me upon himself.