Oh! *smooshes the fic, and Fraser, and Ray, and not-Ben-actually-Kakrayok
Love Fraser's analytical discomfort and his denial and love the fact that Kakrayok is neither saccharine and lovey-dovey nor precocious and cynical. I can see him getting along with Fraser and Ray and all of them needing each other. :)
Fave lines: Although he noted a distinction: in Fraser's life, denial had been achieved consciously, through an effort of discipline, and will. Blinding himself to desire, deliberately, effectively, for years, until he could look up and see, not loneliness, or the absence of love; but instead, the plain, concrete truth before him: a desk chair, a uniform, the vast, bleak horizon.
The dispiriting place itself: a squat, cinder block affair, walls sloppily painted an apologetic blue, festooned with sagging banners and balloons.
He knows he should feel sympathy for these lost children. An impulse to protect them -- pity, at the very least. But instead, in truth, he's angry. Who are these children, trying to force themselves between him and Ray?
He's always suspected that, in some crucial way, he isn't really a good man. Now, he sees that he's been right. He's selfish, cold, uncharitable. A matter of time until Ray sees it, too.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2012-04-09 02:49 am (UTC)Love Fraser's analytical discomfort and his denial and love the fact that Kakrayok is neither saccharine and lovey-dovey nor precocious and cynical. I can see him getting along with Fraser and Ray and all of them needing each other. :)
Fave lines:
Although he noted a distinction: in Fraser's life, denial had been achieved consciously, through an effort of discipline, and will. Blinding himself to desire, deliberately, effectively, for years, until he could look up and see, not loneliness, or the absence of love; but instead, the plain, concrete truth before him: a desk chair, a uniform, the vast, bleak horizon.
The dispiriting place itself: a squat, cinder block affair, walls sloppily painted an apologetic blue, festooned with sagging banners and balloons.
He knows he should feel sympathy for these lost children. An impulse to protect them -- pity, at the very least. But instead, in truth, he's angry. Who are these children, trying to force themselves between him and Ray?
He's always suspected that, in some crucial way, he isn't really a good man. Now, he sees that he's been right. He's selfish, cold, uncharitable. A matter of time until Ray sees it, too.