Water. God, Hermann, was that what you thought of him?
"I'd be shit as a caretaker, okay? Is that what you'd like me to admit, because I do realize that, Hermann." Newt leaned into that gentle touch. "But I also have no interest in or commitment to a boiling pan of water and I hope you realize that you're NOT that, you're a human being, one that I have a great deal of love and respect for and if you think I'd leave you to just some nurse or to wallow away in loneliness and self-pity, then you've got it all wrong. Look, I'm not saying I'd be perfect. I'm not; we both know that."
Caretaker was not a role Newt had ever envisioned for himself. He was terrible at sympathy, had no patience, had poor compassion. He knew what MS could do to a person, had known for a long time. But he wanted to make sure there was someone who loved Hermann, cared for him, could put up with his crap because Hermann was an asshole sometimes. He wanted to be that person, not because it was noble or right, or because Hermann deserved that (Hermann deserved better than Newt could ever offer), but because he wanted to be that person simply because he loved Hermann.
He loved him. More than Newt had ever even realized possible. He'd never really understood romantic love before, or marriage. Sex obviously trumped whatever marriage meant, or his parents wouldn't have bailed on theirs for each other. And yet sex could only go so far because Monica bailed on his dad when Newt came into the picture. What he had with Hermann wasn't about sex or romance. His heart felt ready to burst when he was around the man; he wanted Hermann, adored him, fancied him, was turned on by him in every conceivable way (mentally, physically, emotionally...). So essential to his life was Hermann Gottlieb that Drift or no Drift, Newt could physically feel the withdrawals from him on the sub. Hermann was everything. Newt wanted to see him each day, to talk to him, share ideas, and even if such happiness was doled out in snippets of time between bed pans and medication, and eventually lost all together, he would rather lose Hermann slowly over years than to ever cut it off with him again. They were partners.
There was nothing beautiful about leaving to preserve some perfect mental image of Hermann. Hermann was imperfect from the beginning. But he was still everything.
"But I can't--won't live without you." His energy was restless and Newt wrung his hands and fidgeted with Hermann's vest. "You know that. I know it's not going to be glamorous. Or easy. Or ideal. I promised in August that I'd fight it with you, and that continues to be my goal, but even if we can't, if we're losing--I'm here with you. I'm telling you, yes, Hermann. I'd stay, to help if you want me to, or just to stay. I'm staying."
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Date: 2016-02-07 06:33 am (UTC)"I'd be shit as a caretaker, okay? Is that what you'd like me to admit, because I do realize that, Hermann." Newt leaned into that gentle touch. "But I also have no interest in or commitment to a boiling pan of water and I hope you realize that you're NOT that, you're a human being, one that I have a great deal of love and respect for and if you think I'd leave you to just some nurse or to wallow away in loneliness and self-pity, then you've got it all wrong. Look, I'm not saying I'd be perfect. I'm not; we both know that."
Caretaker was not a role Newt had ever envisioned for himself. He was terrible at sympathy, had no patience, had poor compassion. He knew what MS could do to a person, had known for a long time. But he wanted to make sure there was someone who loved Hermann, cared for him, could put up with his crap because Hermann was an asshole sometimes. He wanted to be that person, not because it was noble or right, or because Hermann deserved that (Hermann deserved better than Newt could ever offer), but because he wanted to be that person simply because he loved Hermann.
He loved him. More than Newt had ever even realized possible. He'd never really understood romantic love before, or marriage. Sex obviously trumped whatever marriage meant, or his parents wouldn't have bailed on theirs for each other. And yet sex could only go so far because Monica bailed on his dad when Newt came into the picture. What he had with Hermann wasn't about sex or romance. His heart felt ready to burst when he was around the man; he wanted Hermann, adored him, fancied him, was turned on by him in every conceivable way (mentally, physically, emotionally...). So essential to his life was Hermann Gottlieb that Drift or no Drift, Newt could physically feel the withdrawals from him on the sub. Hermann was everything. Newt wanted to see him each day, to talk to him, share ideas, and even if such happiness was doled out in snippets of time between bed pans and medication, and eventually lost all together, he would rather lose Hermann slowly over years than to ever cut it off with him again. They were partners.
There was nothing beautiful about leaving to preserve some perfect mental image of Hermann. Hermann was imperfect from the beginning. But he was still everything.
"But I can't--won't live without you." His energy was restless and Newt wrung his hands and fidgeted with Hermann's vest. "You know that. I know it's not going to be glamorous. Or easy. Or ideal. I promised in August that I'd fight it with you, and that continues to be my goal, but even if we can't, if we're losing--I'm here with you. I'm telling you, yes, Hermann. I'd stay, to help if you want me to, or just to stay. I'm staying."