AU: He Was My Brother (Cobalt)

[Cobalt Weaver]

Cobalt shrugged. He didn't really know what to say. He wasn't used to this, despite the fact that he had been living with Sean for a few years now. He didn't know how to take compliments, and he didn't know how to accept that other people thought him worth something. That he wasn't anything particularly worthwhile was a fact of life that he had come to accept when he was quite young and so he didn't know what to make of Sean's insistence to the contrary.

"How come it seems like other people don't have to try so hard to be good, then?" Cobalt asked, sullenly. "It's always hard, all the time, and other people are good people without even trying."

"No thanks," he mumbled at the offer of wine, and wished he liked alcohol better.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean took the bottle of wine over to the counter, pulled a glass from the cupboard, and then poured a sufficient amount for himself. After a sip, he decided that he would keep the bottle out, as he would finish it before the end of supper. “I can get you some water or ice tea or root beer,” he offered. They also had three types of juice in the refrigerator, if Cobalt wanted something simultaneously sweeter or more acidic.

At the question, he turned around and sought out the shadow manipulator’s eyes, wanting to hold his gaze for what he had to say. “Because you don’t see what’s inside other people.” The telepath reached up to press two fingers to his temple to illustrate his point. “It seems easy because most people are ashamed of their baser impulses. They don’t announce their pain and their anger; they don’t shout their self-loathing from the rooftops.”

Sean sipped his wine and then leaned against the counter, careful not to dip his elbow in anything half-cooked or cooling. “Our outward interaction is carefully constructed. It isn’t theater, because theater isn’t real, but it isn’t the rawness that we feel every second of the day. You see the worst of yourself; you don’t see the worst of others, so you can’t compare the two.”

[Cobalt Weaver]

"I'll get it," Cobalt said, pushing away from the counter and brushing past Sean to rummage around in the refrigerator for the root beer. He stared at it irritably as Sean talked. He knew all this. Sort of. He and Sean had conversations similar to this all the time. He knew that people were never what they seemed like in their first impression, or even their second or third.

"That's the problem," Cobalt said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't. It feels like I don't have an outward appearance that's different than my inside one. Or whatever you said. It's frustrating. And it feels like everyone else can make a nice outward appearance or whatever. And then there's me." He made a face. He wasn't sure why he was harping on this point. It was more for the sake of an argument than anything else. He knew that he was probably ruining Thanksgiving and he was going to feel terrible about that in a few minutes, but right now he was vaguely affronted and in the middle of an argument. And a part of him wondered how much it would take for Sean to get actually mad. Every so once in a while, Cobalt pushed, because that was just in his nature to do. He'd never gotten Sean there yet, and it was mostly a curiosity at this point.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

This was one area wherein Sean was relentless. While he was typically mild-mannered and easygoing, the matter of self-worth was too important for him to simply concede in order to avoid an argument. Besides, the argument had already begun, and why should this Thanksgiving be pleasant when he had already woken alone in bed this morning?

“That isn’t the problem,” he corrected the teenager with a shake of his head. “Being able to construct a mask doesn’t make someone a better person than you. Quite literally, it’s all about appearances and has nothing to do with substance.” He shook his head again and continued, “Many people judge themselves more harshly than they judge others, because it’s impossible to observe someone, or to critique ourselves, in a completely neutral way.”

The telepath drained the rest of the wine in his glass and set it down on the counter, next to the cranberry sauce that he had been preparing. “You aren’t the only one who feels that way, so many people feel that way. Especially at your age. But when you look in the mirror, you see only the worst of yourself, and I can assure you that other people don’t perceive that.”

Sean didn’t claim to be wholly neutral, but he did have more insight than Cobalt did into this topic.

[Cobalt Weaver]

Cobalt watched Sean drain his wine and felt guilty. It was Thanksgiving and here he was starting an argument. A stupid argument. He felt selfish and whiny and above all, extremely tiresome. What was worse, he knew that Sean would know he was thinking this, because telepathy. The teenager tilted his head back and sighed.

"Okay," he said, unconvincingly. "Sorry."

And, because he was still being sort of rude and he felt he ought to explain himself somehow, he added, "I mean, you're probably right. I don't...know a whole lot yet. I don't understand a lot of stuff, it's just sort of confusing."

Which wasn't altogether false. Cobalt often had trouble understanding people. It was embarrassing and sometimes led to awkward situations. "Um," he rubbed the back of his neck, "we can talk about something else now. Since it's Thanksgiving and stuff."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean did know that Cobalt’s thoughts had turned self-critical, and the telepath barely had the energy to address it. He was doing everything within his power to make the holiday tolerable, which didn’t seem sufficient. The teenager was in a foul mood, Sean still had to finish meal preparations, and he missed Josh.

In those ways, today was very much like every other day of the year.

“It is Thanksgiving,” the telepath agreed, as he turned back to the food platters along the various countertops. For what good could be found in that observation, it was Thanksgiving. Not only that, but they were in the privacy of their apartment, where they needn’t worry about political or social classes with Sean’s family. That was reason enough to be grateful.

“And your school’s winter bash is just around the corner.” Within a couple of weeks, it would be upon them, with the end of the semester drawing near. The telepath already knew that Cobalt had no interest in attending, and Sean wasn’t in the habit of forcing him to socialize when he didn’t wish to do so.

“We should do something together that night,” he proposed, before he lifted his knife to return to the preparations. “We can rent some movies and have pizza. A bachelor’s night in.”