Hey, readers of H50. I'm a long time reader and writer of fan fiction, but this is my first attempt in this fandom. I like to explore characters and particularly their flaws and the things that make us love a person that is purely fictional. I have a knack for creating looong sentences. I hope I do Danno justice in this. /Belker

I wish you would talk about it.

Hey, it's just me. Please. Use your words, Steven, I know you can. Hell, you found some eloquent ones a minute ago, when you chewed me out, didn't you? I'm not the enemy here, can't you see that? I know you're hurting, I know you're being eaten from inside and I know how that feels, okay? I know. The thing is you have to recognize it too. You have to stop blaming everything else.

God, you're just a kid in size twelve combat boots and you can't help it because nobody should grow up like that; can't grow up like that.
You've been raised to do right and to be brave and shoot assault rifles and serve your country and take a hit and don't cry about it and that's just fucked up, because you shouldn't have to prove your worth when you're a kid, you should just know it. You're so sad inside and I don't even think you know that, but I do, okay? I do.

Sometimes when I see the stunts you pull and the crazy things you do, I'm scared that you are slowly smothering all normal emotions that you once had, just because they hurt. I wish I could turn your power off sometimes. Robot Steve scares me, because he is perfect and no-one is perfect. No human being anyway. You don't always have to be on top of things, you know that right? Please tell me you know that. I'm trying to show you and Gracie is trying to show you and once in a blue moon we get a glimpse behind your armor.
That armor, that shield, was put up when you were left alone, wasn't it? Your dad seemed like a good guy and I know he did what he thought best, but it wasn't enough. Growing up without a mom can be okay, I guess, but only if you don't blame yourself and there's the problem, because you'll always blame yourself.

You think you are so strong, but that's your biggest weakness and now it's mine too, because you're my best friend and friends share shit like that. And I don't talk about it, because I've seen how you shy away when I try to and against popular belief I know when to shut my mouth. But I just hate that look you get when somebody tries to tell you you're not to blame. It's a look I despise even more than aneurysm face, because it looks like it fucking hurts, and I just can't stand that.

So I don't talk about it and you sure as hell don't talk about it. And it's killing you.

I wish you would just talk about it.

A short rant. Because I'm feeling sad today and writing makes it better.