[Tseng came to this resort before him. Has lived here without him. Fucks people who aren't him. Lives in opulence that makes him uncomfortable but won't give it up because of the access it affords him. Has everything at his fingertips, everything a person could possibly want, and it would have been so easy for him to decide, at any time, that he didn't need Rufus.
But these are the questions he asks — really, one question with two parts, a distinction he wants to hear made. For once, Rufus can hear the real one beneath it, because it's precisely the sort of question he's sought to ask in return.
Is it me? Is it me that you want, that you follow, that you crave, is it me?
So many of these questions have been difficult. This one is so, so easy.]
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But these are the questions he asks — really, one question with two parts, a distinction he wants to hear made. For once, Rufus can hear the real one beneath it, because it's precisely the sort of question he's sought to ask in return.
Is it me? Is it me that you want, that you follow, that you crave, is it me?
So many of these questions have been difficult. This one is so, so easy.]
My Tseng.
I like you. I want you.