[It isn't, of course, what he meant; even Alex, who understands him with more regularity than anyone left here, sometimes misses the simplicity of what he's saying. How literally Ben speaks, though he's learning to be more circumspect. Learning that sometimes people say things like someone mustn't break and they mean "because I need you not to" or "because it would hurt me." That is true, of course, but less important here, now, or ever than what Ben actually meant.
Alex mustn't break for Alex's sake. Because it will hurt him, and while Ben of all people knows how unavoidable that is realistically, so too is loss. So too is life. Alex is a survivor, he won't lay down and die like Ben did, but even a coward such as Ben survived just long enough to become something terrible because the world broke him. Because he allowed it to break him. He doesn't want that for his friend. He doesn't want Alex to let it change him beyond recognition.
A muscle in Ben's jaw tightens when Alex squeezes his hand. He leaves it where it is anyway for a few moments longer before withdrawing it, tilting his head to keep meeting Alex's eyes.]
I do, yes. I also know that you are. [The boy made out of earth. Ben folds his hands into his lap and sits quietly for a moment, straightening his spine now that he's not tethered to one place, reclaiming his comfort distance - although his near knee is still very nearly brushing Alex's side. He glances around them, and remembers again that despite the fact he isn't comfortable here, it's not because he doesn't like it; he likes it too much. The windows are beautiful to look at, and when he glances forward to where the denominational statue would normally be, something in him settles that never quite does.
He looks back to Alex quickly.] May I show you something?
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Alex mustn't break for Alex's sake. Because it will hurt him, and while Ben of all people knows how unavoidable that is realistically, so too is loss. So too is life. Alex is a survivor, he won't lay down and die like Ben did, but even a coward such as Ben survived just long enough to become something terrible because the world broke him. Because he allowed it to break him. He doesn't want that for his friend. He doesn't want Alex to let it change him beyond recognition.
A muscle in Ben's jaw tightens when Alex squeezes his hand. He leaves it where it is anyway for a few moments longer before withdrawing it, tilting his head to keep meeting Alex's eyes.]
I do, yes. I also know that you are. [The boy made out of earth. Ben folds his hands into his lap and sits quietly for a moment, straightening his spine now that he's not tethered to one place, reclaiming his comfort distance - although his near knee is still very nearly brushing Alex's side. He glances around them, and remembers again that despite the fact he isn't comfortable here, it's not because he doesn't like it; he likes it too much. The windows are beautiful to look at, and when he glances forward to where the denominational statue would normally be, something in him settles that never quite does.
He looks back to Alex quickly.] May I show you something?