It's a strangely comforting thought, that time will stretch on inexorably no matter what Aaron thinks or feels. He's just a speck in the grand scheme of life. His pain may feel endless, but it's contained only to him. He appreciates that, in his way. He reaches up to pat Daryl's shoulder, a pithy attempt at comfort, but it's all he has at the moment.
"I'll take a page from your book, then," he says with a tired expression. "No more dramatics."
Maybe it's just the way things are, Aaron is always going to be looking for some way to turn it so he's the supportive one, not the one in need of comfort. They're well-matched in that Daryl is terrible at offering anything of use, and Aaron's even shittier at admitting he needs it, much less accepting it.
"It's fine if you gotta. We can lit and go pitch bottles at the wall," he answers mildly. "If it helps."
Of all expressions of grief, destructive ones are the ones he understands best.
Aaron lets out a little huff, a fond expression on his face. He's never expressed anything that way, and he might never, but the idea has its appeal. He isn't sure he could pull it off, though. "Fire's the right idea," he says hesitantly.
"Maybe I'll light some candles. If we don't change it up soon, we're going to run out of room in the graveyard." Said with a sigh. It's good he didn't mean it as a joke, because it would have been an awful one.
He nods. It's a little somber; but then, all of this is more than a little somber. Fire's as good as anything. Makes him think too much of course-- about that time with Beth, about being in Atlanta with Carol; further back, the farm. Further back, his own home.
But this isn't about him, and there's been enough they've burned away to dull all the sharper pangs. It's clean and decisive, and more than anything, it's something Aaron is gravitating to, so it's a good first step.
"Bet there's some upstairs," he offers. Under better circumstances they could hike out a ways and have a proper fire-- find something worth burning, maybe-- but these days it's not safe to stray. Not that it ever was, really.
He's on the verge of offering to disappear, if that'd be better-- Lord knows he understands wanting to grieve alone-- but one thing at a time.
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what_wings_dare2014-02-14 08:31 pm
no subject
"I'll take a page from your book, then," he says with a tired expression. "No more dramatics."
no subject
"It's fine if you gotta. We can lit and go pitch bottles at the wall," he answers mildly. "If it helps."
Of all expressions of grief, destructive ones are the ones he understands best.
no subject
"Maybe I'll light some candles. If we don't change it up soon, we're going to run out of room in the graveyard." Said with a sigh. It's good he didn't mean it as a joke, because it would have been an awful one.
no subject
But this isn't about him, and there's been enough they've burned away to dull all the sharper pangs. It's clean and decisive, and more than anything, it's something Aaron is gravitating to, so it's a good first step.
"Bet there's some upstairs," he offers. Under better circumstances they could hike out a ways and have a proper fire-- find something worth burning, maybe-- but these days it's not safe to stray. Not that it ever was, really.
He's on the verge of offering to disappear, if that'd be better-- Lord knows he understands wanting to grieve alone-- but one thing at a time.