Basil wasn’t surprised when Atticus took Poppy’s side. He always did and he always would. Sometimes Basil wondered if his brother wished Poppy had been his actual sibling rather than Basil himself; they were damn well suited that was for sure, even when she was being a disaster. Still, it didn’t make it hurt any less to actually hear the other admit it aloud. He swallowed back a childish urge to tout ‘I am not a moron’ and instead raised his chin defiantly. In all truth, there was as high a probability Poppy was lying to him as there was she wasn’t, and Basil was not about to get into hypotheticals now without proof. The point of the mater was not Poppy or her future prospects. It was Basil’s.As Atticus held up a hand and quieted his tone, Basil felt something in the air shift; something that was almost imperceptible but made all the difference in the world. It wasn’t so much Atticus’ words as much as it might be the inference of the implication behind them… Basil felt himself begin to panic just so. He wasn’t ready to talk about this with Atticus, or anybody really, and to hear the outright opinion of the only brother he had so condemning only made matters worse. Darkness tickled at the peripheral of Basil’s vision, swimming around and forcing him to take deep breaths.
He didn’t know how to defend Lissington. He didn’t know what even to say. Everything inside of Basil screamed out that this wasn’t fair, it wasn’t him, it wasn’t— them! Whatever this bizarre thing between him and Lissington was, this friendship or acquaintanceship, it was none of Atticus’ business! Basil had a hard enough time already accepting that the red-head was back in his life and now, since term had ended, he’d been struggling with this incessant need to be in contact with the red-head, to know and be there and just… have him. It was horribly reminiscent of that nagging feeling from before but Basil refused to think that after all these years he was ready to dive back in, no matter what Atticus or Lissing or anyone might think!
“That’s not true,” he finally breathed. He wasn’t sure if he was defending Lissington against the claims of ruining him or deflecting his own assumptions about his issues, but deciding to stick to the former Basil took a step back - away from Atticus - and swatted at his hands. “I’m not doing anything, you don’t…” He balled his right hand into a small fist. “You don’t even know me, Atticus! You have this broken vision in your head of a newly graduated, simpering child. I’m not that person anymore, I’ve learned from my mistakes and I’m not about to dive back into whatever headspace that was willingly!” He sucked in a deep breath, not even sure what he was really owning up to. It wasn’t like they’d ever talked about this before. “If I choose to associate with Gus Lissington, then that’s my choice. He can’t ruin me without my playing some part, any part in it! At the end of the day, you don’t trust me. You don’t know what it’s like to be inside my head and frankly, I’d ask you not to try!”