[He notices the pattern after a few breaths, keens softly, shudders, yearns, trusts. He wants to say I love you I love you I love you, wants to kiss him, or maybe I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry, and manages to do none of them only because he's so torn between them. He hasn't the right, anymore, he has to remember it, imagines scrawling it on the back of his hand since he can't trust memories. He gives a quite, wracking, choked sort of sob.]
Could you.
[He's ashamed to ask. Even with his eyes closed, even with Zane's weight on him like armor, it's a struggle.]
no subject
Could you.
[He's ashamed to ask. Even with his eyes closed, even with Zane's weight on him like armor, it's a struggle.]
Could you soothe me. Just a little.
[Blunt the driving edge of this storm.]