Abner’s eyes widen. He stares down at his own chest.
“Oh. I…understand what you mean. The virus does the same thing. In theory.”
And Abner vomits rainbows twice a day. His mother never questioned him or accused him of anything directly, but she certainly expressed distaste for flamboyance; for gentleness and softness, which she equated with stupidity. For anything that wasn’t stereotypically masculine, because that is what a superhero should be. Suffice it to say Abner did not measure up in several ways.
“I’ve never really thought about it like that,” he mutters. The truth is that Abner has never really allowed himself to be angry; has always been too busy hating himself to think about how he feels about anyone else.
He doesn’t love his mother, that much is true. But he feels guilty about that, and about what he did to her. Without that guilt and self loathing he doesn’t know who he is. He doesn’t deserve to be angry.
“Thank you,” he says, pushing himself carefully into a sitting position. “I owe you. And I do live alone, but I don’t want to put you out. My apartment is…really small. I mean: there are no stairs…”
Not wanting to put anyone out is basically the story of Abner’s life, but he’s also aware that the dots are beginning to form for the night. And the idea of slowly swelling into something hideous in front of a man who both is and looks like a god is deeply depressing.
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“Oh. I…understand what you mean. The virus does the same thing. In theory.”
And Abner vomits rainbows twice a day. His mother never questioned him or accused him of anything directly, but she certainly expressed distaste for flamboyance; for gentleness and softness, which she equated with stupidity. For anything that wasn’t stereotypically masculine, because that is what a superhero should be. Suffice it to say Abner did not measure up in several ways.
“I’ve never really thought about it like that,” he mutters. The truth is that Abner has never really allowed himself to be angry; has always been too busy hating himself to think about how he feels about anyone else.
He doesn’t love his mother, that much is true. But he feels guilty about that, and about what he did to her. Without that guilt and self loathing he doesn’t know who he is. He doesn’t deserve to be angry.
“Thank you,” he says, pushing himself carefully into a sitting position. “I owe you. And I do live alone, but I don’t want to put you out. My apartment is…really small. I mean: there are no stairs…”
Not wanting to put anyone out is basically the story of Abner’s life, but he’s also aware that the dots are beginning to form for the night. And the idea of slowly swelling into something hideous in front of a man who both is and looks like a god is deeply depressing.