[ if he says it -- a part of him thinks it'll be more real than what it is now; and that means he has so much more to lose. it's irrational, it doesn't make the faintest lick of sense. graves has almost lost credence on so many occasions that the thought of it makes his stomach clench.
he dreads moments like these, when all his careful constructed walls and defenses are discovered -- and even when he loves credence he's hiding from him, from that open vulnerability that begs graves to love him. and he does, he does. it's just that the words are caught in his throat.
it protects him, credence is right. it doesn't make him vulnerable, doesn't strip him down and before this, what graves gave credence had been enough, hadn't it? credence has been vulnerable the minute he stepped through the front door, and graves still desperately clings to the last vestiges of his pride.
how did love become something like this, that to say it would mean conceding a kind of defeat. he can see the hurt written so clearly across that handsome, lovely face, he can see the frustration, the helplessness, and he is only sorry that he is the cause of them -- the last thing graves wants to cause credence is distress.
and here they are, at a crossroads and he takes a breath. ]
And why do you want me to say it, Credence? So that you can see me as vulnerable as you are, is that it? Because all this -- everything that I give you, is somehow not enough.
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he dreads moments like these, when all his careful constructed walls and defenses are discovered -- and even when he loves credence he's hiding from him, from that open vulnerability that begs graves to love him. and he does, he does. it's just that the words are caught in his throat.
it protects him, credence is right. it doesn't make him vulnerable, doesn't strip him down and before this, what graves gave credence had been enough, hadn't it? credence has been vulnerable the minute he stepped through the front door, and graves still desperately clings to the last vestiges of his pride.
how did love become something like this, that to say it would mean conceding a kind of defeat. he can see the hurt written so clearly across that handsome, lovely face, he can see the frustration, the helplessness, and he is only sorry that he is the cause of them -- the last thing graves wants to cause credence is distress.
and here they are, at a crossroads and he takes a breath. ]
And why do you want me to say it, Credence? So that you can see me as vulnerable as you are, is that it? Because all this -- everything that I give you, is somehow not enough.