Sonny finds himself up on the roof. It's possible that he's looking for John. It's possible that he's looking for a breath of air that doesn't involve stepping out on the fuckin' Chicago sidewalk. Much as he loves this damn city, he hates it sometimes too
( ... )
The last time they stepped outside its walls together, it was John's desperate attempt to get him some fresh air, after being cooped up in the office for three days, drinking and destroying much of what was in his line of sight.
He's always noticed his brother's reluctance to leave it, but it isn't something he actively questions anymore.
It's something that Sonny needs, for some reason or another, and it isn't easy for him to be outside. It could be for many reasons, and John is only relieved there's a place where he does feel safe, where he does feel fully in control, like in the bar. It's always been a sanctuary for them all, but perhaps without knowing so, it's the biggest sanctuary to Sonny.
"Hey," he says back to him, arms folded across his chest. His head turns a fraction toward Sonny while approaches. He only looks back out to the city after Sonny has moved beside him. "Somethin' like that."
A sigh. "Thought it might help. Gather my thoughts and all that shit."
It is something Sonny does less and less as more and more people are lost or nearly lost. He wasn't always this way. Of course, he didn't always have so many fucking people he cared about either.
In the end, it likely does have something to do with control and feeling like he can keep everyone and everything safe while he's in there, while he's on top of every little, tiny fucking thing that could indicate anything. He knows logically that there's no control here either, but he does have that tendency not to leave it unless he has to.
Daw, John, that line about it being the biggest sanctuary for Sonny was some amazing insight into the narration's character that she wasn't even aware of. ;__;Sonny looks out over the city when he reaches John, and he folds his arms across his chest. Funny how you can know the shit that you're going to get into without really knowing the fullness of it, how it's going to attack every moment, and what other shit that's going to crop up unexpectedly to make things that much more complicated
( ... )
Daw, well. He knows his brother and has insights neither of the narrations might have.
"Yeah, it gives a completely different view than when you're one of the ants down there," John agrees. Being out here helps with the tightened feeling in his chest. It's easier to breathe out in the open than it was back inside the bar, and it feels kind of like a betrayal to even think that.
However true the sentiment might be for the time being.
"You know, I know New York is supposed to be the city that never sleeps, but I think ours is really the one that never stops," he says. From where they stand, they can see movement all over, and it's dark and late. Not always visible to the human eye, but there's always something going on
( ... )
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The last time they stepped outside its walls together, it was John's desperate attempt to get him some fresh air, after being cooped up in the office for three days, drinking and destroying much of what was in his line of sight.
He's always noticed his brother's reluctance to leave it, but it isn't something he actively questions anymore.
It's something that Sonny needs, for some reason or another, and it isn't easy for him to be outside. It could be for many reasons, and John is only relieved there's a place where he does feel safe, where he does feel fully in control, like in the bar. It's always been a sanctuary for them all, but perhaps without knowing so, it's the biggest sanctuary to Sonny.
"Hey," he says back to him, arms folded across his chest. His head turns a fraction toward Sonny while approaches. He only looks back out to the city after Sonny has moved beside him. "Somethin' like that."
A sigh. "Thought it might help. Gather my thoughts and all that shit."
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In the end, it likely does have something to do with control and feeling like he can keep everyone and everything safe while he's in there, while he's on top of every little, tiny fucking thing that could indicate anything. He knows logically that there's no control here either, but he does have that tendency not to leave it unless he has to.
Daw, John, that line about it being the biggest sanctuary for Sonny was some amazing insight into the narration's character that she wasn't even aware of. ;__;Sonny looks out over the city when he reaches John, and he folds his arms across his chest. Funny how you can know the shit that you're going to get into without really knowing the fullness of it, how it's going to attack every moment, and what other shit that's going to crop up unexpectedly to make things that much more complicated ( ... )
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"Yeah, it gives a completely different view than when you're one of the ants down there," John agrees. Being out here helps with the tightened feeling in his chest. It's easier to breathe out in the open than it was back inside the bar, and it feels kind of like a betrayal to even think that.
However true the sentiment might be for the time being.
"You know, I know New York is supposed to be the city that never sleeps, but I think ours is really the one that never stops," he says. From where they stand, they can see movement all over, and it's dark and late. Not always visible to the human eye, but there's always something going on ( ... )
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