not applicable
Though Garland tried not to apply religion (or even philosophy) to Brooklyn very often, for the sake of sanity, over time the sentiment became inescapable. If you had learned it, you had to recognize it: one does not exist without its opposite. Love does not exist without hate. Joy does not exist without grief. To be a loser you have to have known victory.
And though he'd seen Brooklyn basking in victory, horrified in defeat, crying and laughing, smiling and snarling… there was a muted quality to—all of it. Brooklyn walked a middle ground, sometimes reaching a hand out to touch upon polar emotions, but never supplanting his feet. Never throwing himself whole-heartedly into experiencing anything.
For better or worse, Brooklyn had never expressed true love, or, even when demolishing the city, he'd never expressed true hate. Brooklyn was too complicated for such simple emotions. But it made Garland want to kill a puppy, or find a newborn baby and tuck it into his arms.
At least if Brooklyn touched upon the primordial well of hate or love—either one would do—Garland could trust his face when he frowned or smiled. Garland could trust something was getting through.
a/n: YOU GUYS READY for the ultra super cool feather-duster's BEGAriffic birthday edition of 'Delusion?! ...CAUSE I SURE AM. Enjoy enjoy enjoy.