It isn't fair. It isn't right. It's horrible.

Gabriel is curled up in a huge old armchair in his house, clutching the phone like a lifeline.

He checks, double-checks, and finally dials.

Bo's his friend. Bo will be able to make sense of why... why he's sad.

He's never been sad before.

He's never been huddled in a big ol' armchair crying before, either.

"Hallo? Licht here." He never checks to see who is calling. It's Keye, Enrique, or business, and that greeting works for all of them. His voice is bright and cheerful, but not too-too friendly, in case it's business.

"Hi."

Gabriel is suddenly striken with shyness.

What if Bo is like Arthur, who seems nice at first but who's all rotten inside?

"Gabriel, is that you?"
He sounds pleased.

"...yeah."

Gabriel is no longer quite so at ease interacting with people as he was. This is both a pity and a good thing.

There are worst ways to learn the world is a complicated place than by an encounter with Arthur. Much worse.

There's breathing as Bo pauses on the other end.
He's in his apartment, standing at ease in the middle of his empty living room floor. Now he heads towards the kitchen, with the intent of brewing tea, but without the intent of drinking it.
"What's wrong?"

"...not everyone is... horrible, are they?"

He's honestly worried about this. He is.

He was going to say 'not everyone is nice, are they' in a sad tone, but he changed it at the last minute.

Poor boy, all disillusioned.

He met someone horrible.

"What?"
The poor thing sounds so...so confused and upset, and...it's a shame they're just on the phone, isn't it?
"No, no, Gabriel, of course not. What happened?"

"I- I tried to help someone, and he didn't want help, and-"

He falls silent, because he's crying again.

"I don't understand."

"Do you need me to come over?"
Does it matter where he lives? No!

Bo is confused and worried.

"I don't want to go outside again."

I'm not sure if that's a yes or a no.

The boy's all confused inside.

"Well, that's all right. Tell me where you are and I will come to you."
He has his beloved car. The one that has begun making ominous thunking noises.

"I. It's a big house. With blue shutters. And it's on Gifford Street."

He's having a very hard time being articulate.

He hopes Bo knows where Gifford Street is. He has realized that while he wants to talk, talking would require being coherent. Which he is not.

"I'll be there in ten minutes." his voice is all confident reassurance, steel reinforcements, flexible in case of earthquake.

He begins preparing to leave.

Gabriel lets the phone half-slip out of his hand, grip going loose, and sinks deeper into his chair.

The front door is unlocked.

Ten minutes later, the knock, and failing that, opening the door and stepping inside. He has to hunt a little bit, but soon his slight tread ends up in the room where Gabriel is, blue eyes searching behind thick glass. He's...soft again, flannel pajama pants and a fluffy sweater, hair fluffed slightly as well.
When he sees Gabriel, he makes a little noise and rushes over to take the young one in his arms.

Gabriel clings to him, because he doesn't know what else to do.

And though Gabriel cries, he cries silently.

Bo rocks him, because it seems the thing to do (and isn't it convenient that they both fit in this big old chair?), stroking his hair and rubbing his back and anything else that seems soothing from moment to moment, murmuring soft, reassuring things in German.

Gabriel wishes he knew German.

"Being- acting human is too complicated," he admits finally, after quite a while of not being able to string two words together in his head.

He doesn't want to, or have to, lie to Bo.

"It's hard at first," he agrees, brushing the side of Gabriel's face with light fingers. "Worse for you, because you are--you seem to be an adult. It does get easier. I think."
He can't promise, and he's not a liar, so he simply says 'I think' and kisses Gabriel's forehead.

"I've never been a child."

He doesn't have - have experience.

He doesn't know how to deal with all of this.

What if he can't? What if he just can't?

"I know."
And really, is it any better to have missed out on that pain, when it's replaced with this pain?
"I can't even imagine."

"What's it like? Childhood."

They need to talk about something. Otherwise Gabriel will end up thinking about, and then he'll end up crying again.

"In my experience, dreadful." he strokes the young angel's hair, keeping his lips close to skin. Contact helps. It's what...
What his father would have done.
"When you're not quite human, other children seem to sense it in a way adults can't, and they shun you."

"I was talking to a kid. A boy." Frown. "He thought I was...."

And now he's going to trail off and be sad, if that's all the same.

"What? If you want to say."
He doesn't mind if Gabriel doesn't, he'll just stay here and hold and protect. He can do that.

"He was getting in fights, and he knew he'd get in trouble for it, and he didn't care."

Gabriel can't imagine why or how the boy could feel that way.

"And he just - he wouldn't even consider it might be wrong. I don't understand."

Talking to Arthur made him feel dirty inside. Made him want to bathe.

Until then, he didn't even remember that you could bathe. (He's naturally self-cleaning.)

"Some people just think that way," he murmurs. "Sometimes it's best to be gentle with them. Sometimes not." And very touchy to tell which is which.

"I think I lost my temper and called him horrible," Gabriel admits guilty.

He didn't really mean it. Arthur was confusing, not horrible. Confusing and very upsetting.

Very, very upsetting.

He chuckles softly, because he's said much worse things to Keye, when upset.
"It happens. You must have been very frustrated."

He nods, and nods again, and sees no reason to stop nodding.

"He was so stubborn about it," he says plaintively.

How can you so stubbornly believe in something so wrong?

Bo's fingers curve loosely over his chin. You can stop that now, lovely child.
"Yes. Sometimes they--sometimes we don't make sense. Sometimes they are bad people, and sometimes they just think strangely."

"It 'tisn't fair," he says sadly, leaning on Bo as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

He's adaptable. Bo is his friend. Right now, he can't imagine not having a Bo-friend.

"No." he agrees, keeping Gabriel's face cradled in his hand. "But you will meet a lot of it. I think strangely myself, from time to time."

"I think I would rather hide," Gabriel states.

Isn't hiding an acceptable option?

Please say it is?

"Oh." Sadly, Bo turns his hand to stroke the angel's face with the back of it. "You can, if that's what you want. Think of what you'll miss, though."

The angel's worried expression does not get less worried by Bo's touch, but it does relax him somewhat.

"I won't make any hasty decisions."

If he's going to stay in, he will, but he won't decide on the spur of the moment, in the grip of emotion. That's a good way to regret your decisions (just look at what he said to Arthur; he regrets that already, regrets the whole thing).

"I think that's smart of you."
There's no rush. If Gabriel even just wants to stay in for a little while until he's ready, it's not a problem. Bo wouldn't mind visiting. So for now, he just holds him.

Gabriel likes being held.

Eventually (and eventually comes at least ten minutes later), Gabriel will ask, "Do you like piano?"

He has a piano. It's at the other end of this sitting room - a room decorated to the tastes of an older, academic man, bookshelves and huge chairs included.

"I do at that." he perks up at the mention of music--he isn't by any means fanatical about it, but he always finds it enjoyable. "I used to play a little, but I never got very good."