[ Harry isn't really sure what to say to that. The idea that Norman, that some version of his dad actually was worried for him, for him, not some other, happier, less broken version of himself...
He doesn't know how to accept that as possibly being the truth. ]
[Let's be real, Otto might be the only person out of all three of them who ever had a sense of how screwed up the Harry back home was. But we don't gotta talk about that!]
Of course. He was very upset to hear about your version of him. He wanted to be there for you, like the other one should have been.
[Otto can infer the broad strokes of how Norman died, but he doesn't know any specifics. Even Norman probably didn't, really. Was it something that could be avoided through a sudden cure? Or, like with Otto himself, had something unavoidable already been set into motion?]
You have every right to be angry. But he did love you, Harry.
[ Harry reads the message. Reads it again. He can't accept that. He can't accept the fact that there was a father figure who loved him, who would have tried to help him, tried to take care of him, looked out for him. And now he's gone.
He can't. He can't accept that he had the chance to have something like that, and that it was taken away from him.
He puts the phone down, and goes to pour himself a drink. ]
[Otto waits a little while, until it becomes clear that Harry's not responding. And that...well. What more is there to say?
The apartment's too empty. He climbs up to the roof, leans against the perimeter wall with a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other. His phone's in his pocket, but he's doing his best not to look at it. He can't stop checking to see if Norman has texted him back after all.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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he barely knew me.
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We spoke about it often. He didn't quite know how to talk to you, sometimes, but I know how he worried.
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He doesn't know how to accept that as possibly being the truth. ]
you two talked about me?
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Of course.
He was very upset to hear about your version of him. He wanted to be there for you, like the other one should have been.
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[Otto can infer the broad strokes of how Norman died, but he doesn't know any specifics. Even Norman probably didn't, really. Was it something that could be avoided through a sudden cure? Or, like with Otto himself, had something unavoidable already been set into motion?]
You have every right to be angry.
But he did love you, Harry.
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He can't. He can't accept that he had the chance to have something like that, and that it was taken away from him.
He puts the phone down, and goes to pour himself a drink. ]
β Read 10:13am
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The apartment's too empty. He climbs up to the roof, leans against the perimeter wall with a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other. His phone's in his pocket, but he's doing his best not to look at it. He can't stop checking to see if Norman has texted him back after all.]