( When Lance pulls out his phone, Ian's expecting maybe a text message exchange or something. Maybe a photo of somebody from Hadriel he loved and lost, the kind of heartbreak Ian would have had if he woke up here without Nate. He's expecting just about anything but what he actually gets.
Lance hands the phone over, and there's a fucking baby on the screen. He is, for the first time during their talks, speechless.
He couldn't have known, obviously, but all the same for some reason he still feels like an asshole for not... somehow knowing along the way. It feels strange and unacceptable that he's known Lance for as long as he has without having even the first clue Lance has been carrying this on his shoulders the entire time.
His second thought is a little more selfish, in that it... isn't of Lance, but rather the kid. He grew up without a father. Never saw the man once, never even knew his name. He felt that ache all the way up until he learned how to repress his feelings in his pre-teen years, and while it isn't something that actively impacts him now — consciously, at least — he still feels a little cheated when he thinks about it. He hurts for that kid.
Spends a couple seconds too long, maybe, looking at the picture before he finally slides the phone back across the table.
It's not as simple to answer as the previous problem, for some reason. It's different in a way he can't name. It means there's a longer, quiet pause between the realization and his response. )
I'm sorry.
( First and foremost. He really is, in a way that isn't exactly pity. He'd like to tell himself it's empathy, though whether or not there's a difference in Lance's eyes isn't up to him. But he does have a consolation to offer, even if it's weak and it doesn't really accomplish anything; )
You know he's gonna grow up knowing your name, right? He'll see pictures of you. He'll hear stories. He's gonna know who you are and what you're like, and that... matters a lot more than you'd think.
( But it doesn't help the fact that Lance will probably never know the same things in turn. )
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Lance hands the phone over, and there's a fucking baby on the screen. He is, for the first time during their talks, speechless.
He couldn't have known, obviously, but all the same for some reason he still feels like an asshole for not... somehow knowing along the way. It feels strange and unacceptable that he's known Lance for as long as he has without having even the first clue Lance has been carrying this on his shoulders the entire time.
His second thought is a little more selfish, in that it... isn't of Lance, but rather the kid. He grew up without a father. Never saw the man once, never even knew his name. He felt that ache all the way up until he learned how to repress his feelings in his pre-teen years, and while it isn't something that actively impacts him now — consciously, at least — he still feels a little cheated when he thinks about it. He hurts for that kid.
Spends a couple seconds too long, maybe, looking at the picture before he finally slides the phone back across the table.
It's not as simple to answer as the previous problem, for some reason. It's different in a way he can't name. It means there's a longer, quiet pause between the realization and his response. )
I'm sorry.
( First and foremost. He really is, in a way that isn't exactly pity. He'd like to tell himself it's empathy, though whether or not there's a difference in Lance's eyes isn't up to him. But he does have a consolation to offer, even if it's weak and it doesn't really accomplish anything; )
You know he's gonna grow up knowing your name, right? He'll see pictures of you. He'll hear stories. He's gonna know who you are and what you're like, and that... matters a lot more than you'd think.
( But it doesn't help the fact that Lance will probably never know the same things in turn. )