Silver, someone who terrorised Mister LaRusso when he was younger so traumatically that he could barely speak about the experience--was this because of it? Because of the implications, the unspoken interactions that can easily lie not just in Mister LaRusso's words, but his expressions--his hesitations. The difficulty that every part of this is for him to bring up, his reaction to Robby's own confession.
What did he do? he wants to ask to clear the air, even though the answer feels omnipresent between them. What do you think he did?
Robby helps the omen when it needs a bump to get onto the table. He rests his hands after on the edge of the table, fingers close to pick at and entwine at the skin, the tips. He doesn't look away from Mister LaRusso, though he wants to: his gaze feels heavy on him. If not the gaze, then his words, twisting at his own stomach, turning him queasy. It's so easy...
To be duped.
Is that what happened? Is that what all of this was? His gaze scatters, trying to decide--is that all this was? A mistake? A lie? A trick he fell into, like any other guy could fall into, and--
"That's not true." Robby can't. He cuts through his own doubting, curls his hands together and looks back at Mister LaRusso. Not wanting this feeling--young, childish, call it anything else--to be marked as sinister. Dirty. Not like this.
"You're not Silver--you can never be Silver. S-sure," his voice cracks a bit, "maybe I was just a lonely kid and you were the nicest thing to happen in my life at the start, but you never encouraged it. You didn't do anything wrong. I knew it didn't mean anything--you just made me happy. I was happy, for a long time--I'll always remember what you and Misses LaRusso did for me."
It wasn't dirty. Maybe it was wrong, anyone could say that, but it wasn't like it would've ever left his own heart: this nice feeling that washed over him whenever he spent time with Mister LaRusso, looked at him, when he thought about where his life was.
He cherished it, then set it away. He started dating Sam. Then everything happened between them and its warmth, its light--it extinguished.
But apparently, it never truly went away.
"...I just liked you too much, that's all. But then I started to realise things didn't have to be that why; that what I liked, what I wanted... being close to you, it didn't have to be anything else. I never thought, you know--I never thought we could be like that." A beat, and he looks across at Mister LaRusso. "A family."
He never thought they could be lovers, either, but what else was he meant to fantasise? When the parts that attracted him to the idea--those could be considered wrong, more than any. That he'd do anything for this man he cared about. If he was lonely, if he needed someone...
But there's limits to what he can share--there's some parts of this he needs to keep to himself.
He rubs his fingers over his knuckles, then stops. Fluttering his gaze back over to the older man.
"You didn't do anything wrong." He purses his lips. "Don't let him think you did. You made me happy."
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Silver, someone who terrorised Mister LaRusso when he was younger so traumatically that he could barely speak about the experience--was this because of it? Because of the implications, the unspoken interactions that can easily lie not just in Mister LaRusso's words, but his expressions--his hesitations. The difficulty that every part of this is for him to bring up, his reaction to Robby's own confession.
What did he do? he wants to ask to clear the air, even though the answer feels omnipresent between them. What do you think he did?
Robby helps the omen when it needs a bump to get onto the table. He rests his hands after on the edge of the table, fingers close to pick at and entwine at the skin, the tips. He doesn't look away from Mister LaRusso, though he wants to: his gaze feels heavy on him. If not the gaze, then his words, twisting at his own stomach, turning him queasy. It's so easy...
To be duped.
Is that what happened? Is that what all of this was? His gaze scatters, trying to decide--is that all this was? A mistake? A lie? A trick he fell into, like any other guy could fall into, and--
"That's not true." Robby can't. He cuts through his own doubting, curls his hands together and looks back at Mister LaRusso. Not wanting this feeling--young, childish, call it anything else--to be marked as sinister. Dirty. Not like this.
"You're not Silver--you can never be Silver. S-sure," his voice cracks a bit, "maybe I was just a lonely kid and you were the nicest thing to happen in my life at the start, but you never encouraged it. You didn't do anything wrong. I knew it didn't mean anything--you just made me happy. I was happy, for a long time--I'll always remember what you and Misses LaRusso did for me."
It wasn't dirty. Maybe it was wrong, anyone could say that, but it wasn't like it would've ever left his own heart: this nice feeling that washed over him whenever he spent time with Mister LaRusso, looked at him, when he thought about where his life was.
He cherished it, then set it away. He started dating Sam. Then everything happened between them and its warmth, its light--it extinguished.
But apparently, it never truly went away.
"...I just liked you too much, that's all. But then I started to realise things didn't have to be that why; that what I liked, what I wanted... being close to you, it didn't have to be anything else. I never thought, you know--I never thought we could be like that." A beat, and he looks across at Mister LaRusso. "A family."
He never thought they could be lovers, either, but what else was he meant to fantasise? When the parts that attracted him to the idea--those could be considered wrong, more than any. That he'd do anything for this man he cared about. If he was lonely, if he needed someone...
But there's limits to what he can share--there's some parts of this he needs to keep to himself.
He rubs his fingers over his knuckles, then stops. Fluttering his gaze back over to the older man.
"You didn't do anything wrong." He purses his lips. "Don't let him think you did. You made me happy."