Something deep in Ford's chest swelled. His arms tightened around Cash — slightly, unconsciously, protectively. "Well, I like you," he countered. He could tell, or imagined he could, that Cash did not believe him. Fair enough — it did have the ring of something someone said in a moment like this because it was really the only thing you were supposed to say. And they'd gone a year, nearly, hardly speaking to each other, and they'd fought before the wedding, and really they had never even been that close before the night Cash had written him about his dementor problem — so fine, maybe it was hard to believe. Hard to believe that he meant it on more than a superficial level, anyway; plenty of people probably liked Cash well enough to enjoy themselves if they happened to be sharing the break room at the Ministry. This was more than that. This was — Cash was a person of worth in Ford's eyes, on a level that was impossible to explain, and maybe that wasn't enough to make a difference — maybe that didn't mean enough, if everything hurt all the time — but Ford couldn't let Cash go not knowing. So maybe he'd have to try to explain it after all, impossible or not.
"It's easy to tell you the truth," he said. He was frowning gently from the concentration of trying to think through everything, and looking towards the floor. "Even more than — I mean I've been in love with someone and I still can't always even talk to him." He maybe told Cash too much of the truth sometimes, but it hadn't come back to bite him yet, and there was something to that, too. That Cash wasn't just easy to talk to, but easy to trust — and that he took Ford's trust, even unearned, and honored it.
"You're... kind. Deep down," he continued. Thoughtlessly kind, maybe; Ford could easily believe that this was something Cash didn't notice about himself, because when he did something for someone else he never gave the impression he was trying. Nothing that would have lead someone to notice and feel embarrassed. The way he'd gotten Grace to laugh before she'd debuted, or changing the topic effortlessly when Jemima had said something awkward at dinner. The fact that Adrienne seemed generally content with her life and her marriage, which hadn't been a given under the circumstances. Things most people wouldn't notice, but Ford saw these things; he understood they did not happen accidentally. It wasn't just kindness, either — that word was too small for it. It was that Cash cared about people, even when he did not care about himself. So much had happened to him in his life. He carried so much, more than Ford would probably ever understand. Enough to have created the dementor. And even with all of that, there was still room inside him for so much more. He felt bottomless, sometimes.
"I like you," Ford repeated, because he did not know how to say any of the rest of it. "I think my life would be a lot worse without you."
"It's easy to tell you the truth," he said. He was frowning gently from the concentration of trying to think through everything, and looking towards the floor. "Even more than — I mean I've been in love with someone and I still can't always even talk to him." He maybe told Cash too much of the truth sometimes, but it hadn't come back to bite him yet, and there was something to that, too. That Cash wasn't just easy to talk to, but easy to trust — and that he took Ford's trust, even unearned, and honored it.
"You're... kind. Deep down," he continued. Thoughtlessly kind, maybe; Ford could easily believe that this was something Cash didn't notice about himself, because when he did something for someone else he never gave the impression he was trying. Nothing that would have lead someone to notice and feel embarrassed. The way he'd gotten Grace to laugh before she'd debuted, or changing the topic effortlessly when Jemima had said something awkward at dinner. The fact that Adrienne seemed generally content with her life and her marriage, which hadn't been a given under the circumstances. Things most people wouldn't notice, but Ford saw these things; he understood they did not happen accidentally. It wasn't just kindness, either — that word was too small for it. It was that Cash cared about people, even when he did not care about himself. So much had happened to him in his life. He carried so much, more than Ford would probably ever understand. Enough to have created the dementor. And even with all of that, there was still room inside him for so much more. He felt bottomless, sometimes.
"I like you," Ford repeated, because he did not know how to say any of the rest of it. "I think my life would be a lot worse without you."
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