And Simon can hear it so perfectly in his head, the lilts, the specific letters his accent had grabbed ahold of and bitten down on, the stupid, satisfied smile he had when he said it, and all of a sudden the urge to laugh has wilted and died.
I miss the person you could've been. I miss the possibility that I could've watched you recover and get better. I mourn the relationships you could've had. I mourn the people your friends could've been. I mourn that your children have lost you.
Ah. No, something was deeply, deeply wrong. If Tristen Ramirez, of all people, faltered for more than a moment, there was something profoundly troubling him.
Because he told somebody, once, I want everyone to see me when I'm dead. I want to see all their sorry fucking faces when they're sad for me, and they all look like shit, and I look fantastic.
No, it's... It's not your fault. Nor is it Adam's fault. Mostly. I doubt he *wants* to be like that. The important thing, Tristen, is that you're doing what you can. Sometimes things don't go as planned. To be honest, I feel like I'm failing him constantly as well.
And Simon can hear it so perfectly in his head, the lilts, the specific letters his accent had grabbed ahold of and bitten down on, the stupid, satisfied smile he had when he said it, and all of a sudden the urge to laugh has wilted and died.