Ned doesn't reply for a few seconds, not because Ginsberg has frightened him, but because it's yet again eerie how well acquainted he is with that particular kind of worry. There's so much he wants to say, so many reassurances to give and questions to answer. But he approaches it in a slow way, because Ginsberg's racing at a mile a minute, and Ned senses the delicacy of this moment for the two of them. He doesn't want to fumble his words out of haste.
"I didn't tell you I went back to the museum, after our date. The day after. No one recognized me or anything. That... that display case I pushed that guy into? There was a crack in the glass. That's how hard I slammed him into it." He'd intended on never telling Ginsberg that, hadn't wanted to. But now he thinks, it might provide a certain solidarity. "I was so angry at him for hitting you - for hitting me, too - that I could have really hurt him. I... I might have, if things had gone differently."
He scoots closer still, so that their knees are touching, and he can look Ginsberg in the eyes as he says, "I don't think you're crazy, and I'm not going anywhere." Carefully, he reaches a hand across the distance and cups Ginsberg's cheek. Sure, Ned might not necessarily phrase it as voices in his head telling him he's awful, but for all he knows Ginsberg is talking about the exact same thing he's felt, and just describing it in different terms.
"Being afraid of what I'm capable of is kind of my default state of being. I wake up every day terrified that someone will get hurt and it'll be my fault, so I know that it's an awful thing to worry about. But that doesn't make you a lunatic, and it doesn't make you a terrible person. If you ask me, it makes you a good person. Good people aren't good because they can't do any harm, or because they don't ever want to. They're good because they decide to be good, every single day. If you ask me, it's what you do that decides who you are, so acting sweet on the outside is exactly the same as being sweet."
Ned runs his thumb along Ginsberg's cheekbone, heart breaking at the thought of him tangled up in all that worry and fear when he's been kinder to Ned than anyone he's known for a long, long time. "And everyone slips up now and then, even good people, and that's okay. You just have to live with it as best as you can, and start over trying to be good the next day."
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"I didn't tell you I went back to the museum, after our date. The day after. No one recognized me or anything. That... that display case I pushed that guy into? There was a crack in the glass. That's how hard I slammed him into it." He'd intended on never telling Ginsberg that, hadn't wanted to. But now he thinks, it might provide a certain solidarity. "I was so angry at him for hitting you - for hitting me, too - that I could have really hurt him. I... I might have, if things had gone differently."
He scoots closer still, so that their knees are touching, and he can look Ginsberg in the eyes as he says, "I don't think you're crazy, and I'm not going anywhere." Carefully, he reaches a hand across the distance and cups Ginsberg's cheek. Sure, Ned might not necessarily phrase it as voices in his head telling him he's awful, but for all he knows Ginsberg is talking about the exact same thing he's felt, and just describing it in different terms.
"Being afraid of what I'm capable of is kind of my default state of being. I wake up every day terrified that someone will get hurt and it'll be my fault, so I know that it's an awful thing to worry about. But that doesn't make you a lunatic, and it doesn't make you a terrible person. If you ask me, it makes you a good person. Good people aren't good because they can't do any harm, or because they don't ever want to. They're good because they decide to be good, every single day. If you ask me, it's what you do that decides who you are, so acting sweet on the outside is exactly the same as being sweet."
Ned runs his thumb along Ginsberg's cheekbone, heart breaking at the thought of him tangled up in all that worry and fear when he's been kinder to Ned than anyone he's known for a long, long time. "And everyone slips up now and then, even good people, and that's okay. You just have to live with it as best as you can, and start over trying to be good the next day."