There's a moment where he doesn't think Ned's going to hug him back at all, and he wonders if he's done something wrong in being so clingy and needy. Maybe he should have taken it more slowly, not practically flung himself upon Ned. He relaxes a little when Ned finally wraps his arms around him, lets himself press more closely against Ned.
At this point, he'll seize onto any attempt at humor Ned offers, and he smiles into Ned's shoulder a little, still not letting go. "No, nearly running into my dad was my token thing-going-wrong for the date. Everyone has to have one. It's just that yours was a little bigger than mine. I mean, a lot bigger. But on the bright side, maybe that means that the next time we have something go wrong, it'll be minor. I'll spill my coffee on you or something."
He really hopes so. He's sorry he had to see it, too, but he's not upset with Ned for it. "Now... now what do we do? I mean, what do you need to do? To feel better about all of this?"
"I don't know," Ned says, honestly. All that emotion, all that shock and terror, has left him feeling strangely jittery, but he doesn't know in which way to direct that energy. There's nothing to be frightened of, nothing to put all his energy into regretting or dreading. "I never really thought... I mean, I've imagined a lot of different scenarios where people found out. Where you found out, even. But I guess I only ever thought out the worst case scenario, so I'm a bit adrift."
He runs a hand up and down Ginsberg's back, feeling the way he's clinging, holding him tighter in response.
Clearing his throat Ned offers, tentatively, "Is there anything you need? I mean... none of this is new to me."
It may sound like a simple repetition of what Ned's just said, but it's true. He has no idea what'll make this better for either of them. Ned, at least, has experienced this before, and seems to have some idea of how it goes. But then, Ned's never had the experience of having someone else discover his secret before, and that, very likely, has him shaken.
"I'm still so cold," he mumbles, and then buries his face deeper into Ned's shoulder, which doesn't seem like it should be possible, considering how closely he's clinging already. "This shouldn't be about me, anyway. It happened to you. I just happened to be there. It's harder for you. I mean, if you've been imagining people finding out about this for a long time, and it's been on your mind, then obviously it's harder for you."
When Ginsberg says he is cold, Ned murmurs, "C'mere," and pulls away momentarily, keeping one arm around Ginsberg's waist to steer him to the couch. He sits down and pulls the other man close to him, drapes him in the blanket that he keeps folded over the back. The source of that cold may not be entirely physical, but then the act of tucking Ginsberg up close to his side isn't only physical, either.
"It's about both of us," he says, settling on a middle ground. It seems accurate, as well. He's dealing with someone finding out for the first time, and Ginsberg's dealing with the whole magic powers are real thing, not to mention the shock from being exposed to that kind of violence.
"I'm just not sure... how to even talk about it," Ned admits. "I've never really spoken about it to anyone before, so even though it's this big part of my life..." He ends with a shrug. "I guess I should- I didn't explain it very well, earlier. I was kind of panicking." Understatement. "Do you... if you have questions? I could try to answer them."
"I don't know," he says again, but after a few seconds -- seconds he spends tucking his feet up under him on the couch and wrapping himself as tightly in the blanket as he can -- he decides that he's sick of just saying I don't know, and shrugs.
"You can explain it however you want. I mean, I don't want to make you uncomfortable. It's obviously an uncomfortable topic. You can't just go around talking about it, so I guess you probably haven't had to say anything about it before. I have a million questions, but I'm not sure where I... I mean, how did you find out... How do you find out that you can do something like that?"
That seems like a good place to start. The beginning. Maybe he can figure out how to understand it all if he knows what it was like for Ned to discover it. He'll never understand it fully, and he knows it, but it's a tentative beginning.
That's an easy question to start with; Ginsberg can probably feel a small amount of the tension go out of him when it is nothing more complicated than that, at first. "Digby," he says, without hesitation. "When I was a kid, he was playing in the road and got hit by a truck. He was dead, but then I touched him and he got up and was fine. That was the first time it happened. It just sort of came out of nowhere. One day I was normal, and the next, I wasn't. I have no idea why."
Ned settles an arm around Ginsberg's shoulders, feels that... this is okay. He can do this. In a way it's almost nice. All of this is something he's never had the opportunity to talk about. It's the removal of a barrier between the two of them - a huge barrier. Ned hadn't realized quite how far apart it kept them, until it was gone. Some of this is discernible in the increasing ease and warmth of his voice as he elaborates, "That's why I can't touch him, now. I don't know if you've noticed. You probably didn't. Most people don't. If I were to touch him again, he'd die. So I can't."
He nods slowly, as though he understands it, though of course he doesn't, really. The explanation makes enough sense, though, that he's perfectly happy to go along with it, glad that Ned had been willing to explain it. "I noticed you didn't exactly seem cuddly with him. Maybe I just thought you weren't the cuddly kind of guy. Which is pretty stupid, I guess, because you seem to be cuddling with me just fine, but I dunno, you're right, I didn't really think about it."
He leans his head on Ned's shoulder, half looking for more comfort, half simply enjoying his physical presence, liking that there's someone he can cuddle up to without feeling strange about it. "But you've kept him alive for this long, ever since you were a kid, never touching him. That's really... that's impressive. You must be really careful with him. I can't imagine being able to do that. I mean, you know how I am. I'd've impulsively hugged him a long time ago."
And that, he thinks, might have a little something to do with why Ned always seems a bit surprised by spontaneous physical contact, but he's not here to psychoanalyze Ned, or to figure out what makes him the way he is. He's just here to listen, and to attempt to understand as much about him as he can. That's a lot easier than figuring out the whys and hows and all the other unpleasant stuff.
"It helps that he's well-behaved," Ned says, with considerable affection, "Plus, I'm pretty sure he kind of... knows what would happen if we ever touched. Like he can sense it somehow. Dogs can sense all kinds of things that people can't, so why not that?"
Even if Ginsberg doesn't voice his vague suspicions aloud, Ned guesses that he is tying the various pieces of evidence together, seeing Ned's somewhat strange behavior in regards to physical contact in an entirely different light. Might as well acknowledge it. "What with the way I am... I've learned to be careful, yeah. Of a lot of things, not just Digby."
He smiles, faintly, adds with a touch of humor, "Paranoid would be another word for it. I've gotten by, pretty much, by having a million tiny rules about what I can and can't do. In order to prevent, well, stuff like what happened when we were in the park. That was really unlike me, being reckless and walking on that wall. Even running into that shop without looking inside, first, was pretty daring, according to my standards."
"He does seem pretty smart," he agrees, thinking of how Digby almost seems
to listen to Ned like he's a person, too. "Of course, now that I know that
he's ancient and immortal, the fact that he's smart kind of makes sense.
Well, not entirely immortal, I guess, but you're careful, like you said.
Paranoid, like me. Just in a different way."
It's strange how similar they are, he thinks, even though he, of course,
has no magical powers or inexplicable talents like Ned does. He's
quiet for a minute, thinking about everything Ned's explained so far, and
then speaks up again.
"I know what you mean about rules. Not like you do, of course, but I have a
lot of rules, too. You probably wouldn't think that because I probably
strike you as being pretty reckless. And then I made you be all reckless,
and look what happened. See, I'm a bad influence."
He doesn't contradict the fact that, compared to himself, at least, Ginsberg seems to be a reckless person. Not as much as some people Ned had met, not dangerously so, but reckless nonetheless. Ned's always rather liked Ginsberg's brand of recklessness, though. It's what brought them together in the first place; he'd spoken his mind to his date and gotten a pie in the face for it. On their second date, he'd spoken his mind and gotten a punch to the face for it. But there's something energetic, something contagious about his way of being bold that Ned admires. Still, he doesn't doubt that Ginsberg has his own governing rules, that they are just not apparent to him yet.
"You only made me reckless because you made me so happy, and I'm not really used to that."
It's the truth, but he realizes how sappy it sounds, smiles half-apologetically. As far as he's concerned, Ginsberg has been a good influence. He just isn't sure how else to say that.
He can't help but smile when Ned says that, because he likes hearing it, likes the idea that he could make Ned happy, really happy, happy enough to do reckless things -- although maybe he should feel guilty that those reckless things have gotten Ned into trouble. "You make me happy, too. I know that probably sounds pretty silly coming from me, because I'm usually so... well... people assume I'm happy a lot of the time. Because I'm so talkative, or maybe just because I'm so weird."
He knows he doesn't need to say that that assumption is false, knows that Ned has recognized that, in actuality, he's a pretty conflicted person, but he feels the need to explain himself further. "But you make me happy in a different way. Not just the cheerful, jokey way I am most of the time. I mean, it's easy enough to be like that. Anyone can do it if they try hard enough. It's a different kind of happy. The kind of happy I'm not used to. I'm sorry if that sounds stupid."
Ned laughs under his breath. It's not a laugh that's directed at Ginsberg, but rather one of wonder. "It doesn't sound stupid," he says in a very soft voice, full of warmth and affection.
He lets that moment linger for a few minutes, holding Ginsberg tight to his side, allowing the various events of the afternoon sink in. Ned needs that time, to process, to start examining how he's feeling about the whole thing, what he wants to say to the man.
"You're a very special person. You know that, right?" He isn't sure Ginsberg does. Oh, he probably thinks of himself as different, but not necessarily in a good way. Ned wants to explain to him why it is definitely a good thing in his eyes, "If ...that had happened with just about anyone else, this would have probably gone very differently." And from the way he says that, a rather dire way, it would have gone much worse.
"Special? I don't know about that. I mean, I think other people probably would've responded differently, but that's because a lot of people aren't very open minded. I think I'm just different. I like that you like that, though. Obviously I'm not that great at hiding how different I am, so if you didn't like it... well..."
In other words, he's bizarrely and perhaps overly gratified that Ned thinks that he's special. People always tell him he's unusual, but it's almost never a compliment. Coming from Ned, though, it sounds like one. Coming from Ned, being strange doesn't seem like such a bad thing, even if Ned has his own oddities that he's been hiding his whole life.
"And like I said before, I won't tell anyone. I'm a loudmouth, but I'm not going to tell, okay? Just in case you were still worried."
"...I am still a little worried," Ned admits, with reluctance. He trusts Ginsberg's intentions, he really does. Ned is positive that Ginsberg understands the potential consequences of the secret getting out, and that he would never wish harm on Ned. And he really, really likes Ginsberg. But liking people is relatively easy for him, and always has been. Trusting people, on the other hand, is uncharted territory. It's going to take some getting used to, and probably be a slow process.
"But I'm not panicking. And that's actually kind of remarkable, considering how easily I flip out over stuff, and what a huge secret this is. So... I hope you don't feel insulted or hurt or anything, but a little worried is really the best I can aim for at the moment."
"Insulted? I mean, believe me, there's no way I'm insulted or hurt by that. I'd be worried too. I'm worried about everything, all the time. I flip out over stuff pretty easily, too. I get where you're coming from. A little worried is good. I mean, that's a lot better than freaking out, right? I'm honored by a little worried. Overjoyed by it."
And it's not just hyperbole. He really is glad that Ned can manage to be a little worried instead of panicking, because as someone who worries all the time about things out of his control, he can far too easily relate to what Ned's saying. And his own secrets aren't nearly as big as Ned's. Which is why he snuggles a little closer to Ned, and speaks again, in a tone like he's confessing something serious.
"I feel kinda guilty. I mean, I know this huge secret about you that nobody else knows, and that nobody else has ever known, and I don't think there's anything you know about me that's that big. It seems like an unequal exchange, you know? It seems like I'm in your head in a way you wouldn't want me to be, and that seems kinda unfair."
"It's not like balancing a checkbook," Ned points out, with a smile, because he understands what Ginsberg is trying to say. It's the unspoken fact, behind this exchange, that Ginsberg knowing this thing about Ned gives him considerable power over the piemaker. If he wanted to, if he were a different sort of man, he could use what he's learned to blackmail Ned, emotionally or otherwise.
Everything Ned knows about Ginsberg thus far tells him he would never use that opportunity, and that he would be made uncomfortable just knowing that he has it. But Ned doesn't quite know how to alleviate that anxiety. One option, of course, would be to tell Ginsberg he should share something secret, something with an equal potential to devastate his life. However, Ned shrinks from that option, because while he's happy to listen to anything Ginsberg tells him, he doesn't want to coerce a confession. Besides, he somehow doubts Ginsberg has any secrets that are quite so exploitable. Just as personally significant, yes, but not the kind of thing that could be used as a weapon in the same way.
"It's actually kind of a relief," he admits, running his fingers through Ginsberg's hair, tucking a strand behind his ear. "I'd just assumed that, no matter how close we got, there was always going to be this barrier between us. That that one big lie would mean I had to tell a thousand other little ones that I didn't really want to tell. That's the way it's always been. Everyone I've known before... well, they haven't really known me at all. Because how could they?"
It's clear from the way Ned is talking about his ability that it isn't just some novelty, isn't a relatively isolated quirk. Rather, he speaks of it as something central to his identity, to his life. Which it is, of course. It permeates everything, in one way or another.
"I can understand that, I think. But doesn't it make you feel kinda strange? I mean, if that means that I'm the only person who knows you that well..."
He's not sure how to express what he's trying to say, but he always gets like that, too wound up and speaking too quickly to really make sense of things until he purposefully slows down and tries to think through what he's feeling. It's so easily to speak instinctively, for him, but the words don't always come out of his mouth the way they are in his head.
"I mean, I know you like me. I don't doubt that. I don't think you'd lie about something like that, even if it seems completely inconceivable to me. But if nobody's ever really known you before, and now I'm the first person... you could've had a lot better of a first person. You could've had someone who was more important or significant or could actually help you in some way. I'm just me. Relieving, maybe, but..."
He shakes his head. He can't imagine anyone wanting to be that close to him, being relieved at the idea of him knowing them well.
What Ginsberg says isn't quite what Ned was expecting. He thought it would be something more logical, something about the logistics of Ned asking him to keep a secret like that. But instead, what comes out is more of the same vein of self-criticism that he's seen in Ginsberg. It was peculiar to Ned at first; to a stranger, Ginsberg must seem so self-confident. Arrogant, even. But the closer they get, the more he sees the other side of that coin, the insecurity that's woven tightly with the bravado.
He leans over and kisses Ginsberg, just a brief kiss, as if to make a point. "You shouldn't talk about yourself like that," he says, quietly. Then, with a small, slightly rueful lopsided smile, he adds, "And I realize that's kind of the pot calling the kettle black coming from a guy who- from a guy like me. But I mean it."
He smiles at the brief kiss, then leans back over to give Ned a slightly longer, more lingering one, liking the feeling of being pressed against him, feeling absurdly comforted by Ned's warmth and the sheer physical presence of him. "I know, I shouldn't talk about myself like that," he says, almost sadly, smiling a little as soon as he pulls away from the kiss, although his hand still lingers on Ned's leg.
"It's hard not to. You know that, I don't need to tell you that. Either way, though, if I'm not going to be talking about myself like that, I can still say that I'm grateful that you told me. That you didn't just... I mean, a lot of people would have just run away and never explained anything. A lot of people do that with other stuff. Just don't explain it. I'm glad you thought I was worth having it explained to."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
At this point, he'll seize onto any attempt at humor Ned offers, and he smiles into Ned's shoulder a little, still not letting go. "No, nearly running into my dad was my token thing-going-wrong for the date. Everyone has to have one. It's just that yours was a little bigger than mine. I mean, a lot bigger. But on the bright side, maybe that means that the next time we have something go wrong, it'll be minor. I'll spill my coffee on you or something."
He really hopes so. He's sorry he had to see it, too, but he's not upset with Ned for it. "Now... now what do we do? I mean, what do you need to do? To feel better about all of this?"
no subject
He runs a hand up and down Ginsberg's back, feeling the way he's clinging, holding him tighter in response.
Clearing his throat Ned offers, tentatively, "Is there anything you need? I mean... none of this is new to me."
no subject
It may sound like a simple repetition of what Ned's just said, but it's true. He has no idea what'll make this better for either of them. Ned, at least, has experienced this before, and seems to have some idea of how it goes. But then, Ned's never had the experience of having someone else discover his secret before, and that, very likely, has him shaken.
"I'm still so cold," he mumbles, and then buries his face deeper into Ned's shoulder, which doesn't seem like it should be possible, considering how closely he's clinging already. "This shouldn't be about me, anyway. It happened to you. I just happened to be there. It's harder for you. I mean, if you've been imagining people finding out about this for a long time, and it's been on your mind, then obviously it's harder for you."
no subject
"It's about both of us," he says, settling on a middle ground. It seems accurate, as well. He's dealing with someone finding out for the first time, and Ginsberg's dealing with the whole magic powers are real thing, not to mention the shock from being exposed to that kind of violence.
"I'm just not sure... how to even talk about it," Ned admits. "I've never really spoken about it to anyone before, so even though it's this big part of my life..." He ends with a shrug. "I guess I should- I didn't explain it very well, earlier. I was kind of panicking." Understatement. "Do you... if you have questions? I could try to answer them."
no subject
"You can explain it however you want. I mean, I don't want to make you uncomfortable. It's obviously an uncomfortable topic. You can't just go around talking about it, so I guess you probably haven't had to say anything about it before. I have a million questions, but I'm not sure where I... I mean, how did you find out... How do you find out that you can do something like that?"
That seems like a good place to start. The beginning. Maybe he can figure out how to understand it all if he knows what it was like for Ned to discover it. He'll never understand it fully, and he knows it, but it's a tentative beginning.
no subject
Ned settles an arm around Ginsberg's shoulders, feels that... this is okay. He can do this. In a way it's almost nice. All of this is something he's never had the opportunity to talk about. It's the removal of a barrier between the two of them - a huge barrier. Ned hadn't realized quite how far apart it kept them, until it was gone. Some of this is discernible in the increasing ease and warmth of his voice as he elaborates, "That's why I can't touch him, now. I don't know if you've noticed. You probably didn't. Most people don't. If I were to touch him again, he'd die. So I can't."
no subject
He leans his head on Ned's shoulder, half looking for more comfort, half simply enjoying his physical presence, liking that there's someone he can cuddle up to without feeling strange about it. "But you've kept him alive for this long, ever since you were a kid, never touching him. That's really... that's impressive. You must be really careful with him. I can't imagine being able to do that. I mean, you know how I am. I'd've impulsively hugged him a long time ago."
And that, he thinks, might have a little something to do with why Ned always seems a bit surprised by spontaneous physical contact, but he's not here to psychoanalyze Ned, or to figure out what makes him the way he is. He's just here to listen, and to attempt to understand as much about him as he can. That's a lot easier than figuring out the whys and hows and all the other unpleasant stuff.
no subject
Even if Ginsberg doesn't voice his vague suspicions aloud, Ned guesses that he is tying the various pieces of evidence together, seeing Ned's somewhat strange behavior in regards to physical contact in an entirely different light. Might as well acknowledge it. "What with the way I am... I've learned to be careful, yeah. Of a lot of things, not just Digby."
He smiles, faintly, adds with a touch of humor, "Paranoid would be another word for it. I've gotten by, pretty much, by having a million tiny rules about what I can and can't do. In order to prevent, well, stuff like what happened when we were in the park. That was really unlike me, being reckless and walking on that wall. Even running into that shop without looking inside, first, was pretty daring, according to my standards."
no subject
"He does seem pretty smart," he agrees, thinking of how Digby almost seems to listen to Ned like he's a person, too. "Of course, now that I know that he's ancient and immortal, the fact that he's smart kind of makes sense. Well, not entirely immortal, I guess, but you're careful, like you said. Paranoid, like me. Just in a different way."
It's strange how similar they are, he thinks, even though he, of course, has no magical powers or inexplicable talents like Ned does. He's quiet for a minute, thinking about everything Ned's explained so far, and then speaks up again.
"I know what you mean about rules. Not like you do, of course, but I have a lot of rules, too. You probably wouldn't think that because I probably strike you as being pretty reckless. And then I made you be all reckless, and look what happened. See, I'm a bad influence."
no subject
"You only made me reckless because you made me so happy, and I'm not really used to that."
It's the truth, but he realizes how sappy it sounds, smiles half-apologetically. As far as he's concerned, Ginsberg has been a good influence. He just isn't sure how else to say that.
no subject
He knows he doesn't need to say that that assumption is false, knows that Ned has recognized that, in actuality, he's a pretty conflicted person, but he feels the need to explain himself further. "But you make me happy in a different way. Not just the cheerful, jokey way I am most of the time. I mean, it's easy enough to be like that. Anyone can do it if they try hard enough. It's a different kind of happy. The kind of happy I'm not used to. I'm sorry if that sounds stupid."
no subject
He lets that moment linger for a few minutes, holding Ginsberg tight to his side, allowing the various events of the afternoon sink in. Ned needs that time, to process, to start examining how he's feeling about the whole thing, what he wants to say to the man.
"You're a very special person. You know that, right?" He isn't sure Ginsberg does. Oh, he probably thinks of himself as different, but not necessarily in a good way. Ned wants to explain to him why it is definitely a good thing in his eyes, "If ...that had happened with just about anyone else, this would have probably gone very differently." And from the way he says that, a rather dire way, it would have gone much worse.
no subject
In other words, he's bizarrely and perhaps overly gratified that Ned thinks that he's special. People always tell him he's unusual, but it's almost never a compliment. Coming from Ned, though, it sounds like one. Coming from Ned, being strange doesn't seem like such a bad thing, even if Ned has his own oddities that he's been hiding his whole life.
"And like I said before, I won't tell anyone. I'm a loudmouth, but I'm not going to tell, okay? Just in case you were still worried."
no subject
"But I'm not panicking. And that's actually kind of remarkable, considering how easily I flip out over stuff, and what a huge secret this is. So... I hope you don't feel insulted or hurt or anything, but a little worried is really the best I can aim for at the moment."
no subject
And it's not just hyperbole. He really is glad that Ned can manage to be a little worried instead of panicking, because as someone who worries all the time about things out of his control, he can far too easily relate to what Ned's saying. And his own secrets aren't nearly as big as Ned's. Which is why he snuggles a little closer to Ned, and speaks again, in a tone like he's confessing something serious.
"I feel kinda guilty. I mean, I know this huge secret about you that nobody else knows, and that nobody else has ever known, and I don't think there's anything you know about me that's that big. It seems like an unequal exchange, you know? It seems like I'm in your head in a way you wouldn't want me to be, and that seems kinda unfair."
no subject
Everything Ned knows about Ginsberg thus far tells him he would never use that opportunity, and that he would be made uncomfortable just knowing that he has it. But Ned doesn't quite know how to alleviate that anxiety. One option, of course, would be to tell Ginsberg he should share something secret, something with an equal potential to devastate his life. However, Ned shrinks from that option, because while he's happy to listen to anything Ginsberg tells him, he doesn't want to coerce a confession. Besides, he somehow doubts Ginsberg has any secrets that are quite so exploitable. Just as personally significant, yes, but not the kind of thing that could be used as a weapon in the same way.
"It's actually kind of a relief," he admits, running his fingers through Ginsberg's hair, tucking a strand behind his ear. "I'd just assumed that, no matter how close we got, there was always going to be this barrier between us. That that one big lie would mean I had to tell a thousand other little ones that I didn't really want to tell. That's the way it's always been. Everyone I've known before... well, they haven't really known me at all. Because how could they?"
It's clear from the way Ned is talking about his ability that it isn't just some novelty, isn't a relatively isolated quirk. Rather, he speaks of it as something central to his identity, to his life. Which it is, of course. It permeates everything, in one way or another.
no subject
He's not sure how to express what he's trying to say, but he always gets like that, too wound up and speaking too quickly to really make sense of things until he purposefully slows down and tries to think through what he's feeling. It's so easily to speak instinctively, for him, but the words don't always come out of his mouth the way they are in his head.
"I mean, I know you like me. I don't doubt that. I don't think you'd lie about something like that, even if it seems completely inconceivable to me. But if nobody's ever really known you before, and now I'm the first person... you could've had a lot better of a first person. You could've had someone who was more important or significant or could actually help you in some way. I'm just me. Relieving, maybe, but..."
He shakes his head. He can't imagine anyone wanting to be that close to him, being relieved at the idea of him knowing them well.
no subject
He leans over and kisses Ginsberg, just a brief kiss, as if to make a point. "You shouldn't talk about yourself like that," he says, quietly. Then, with a small, slightly rueful lopsided smile, he adds, "And I realize that's kind of the pot calling the kettle black coming from a guy who- from a guy like me. But I mean it."
no subject
"It's hard not to. You know that, I don't need to tell you that. Either way, though, if I'm not going to be talking about myself like that, I can still say that I'm grateful that you told me. That you didn't just... I mean, a lot of people would have just run away and never explained anything. A lot of people do that with other stuff. Just don't explain it. I'm glad you thought I was worth having it explained to."