[He hates that his own memories are tugging at Sorey's, that this is a feeling they both share, but he can't help the relief he feels at the same time, to have someone truly understand. It's different in subtle ways, but similar enough to scratch that unhappy itch. They already share so much of themselves, of their lives, their dreams, their joys. Pain and heartache is a part of that more than ever now, and cautiously he reaches out to embrace it, allowing it to pull them closer together rather than to drag them apart.
Sorey knows because he's been there; Sorey knows because they were in that place together, strangled and aching, miserably free.
He loosens their grip gradually, hands shifting so he can look at them. They're not his hands, but he knows them by sight as if they were, can feel every muscle, the stretch of the skin as their fingers flex, the wrinkled bumps caused by their being underwater for so long. It's reassuring to see them, drawing him out of that dark corner. No claws, no scales. The feathers woven into their hair tickles at their neck and he breathes with Sorey, in and out, moving one hand to press over their chest. In, out. Bump-bump-bump.
It's okay. They're okay.]
I don't like... feeling this way. But I don't know how to- how to not. If that even makes any sense...
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[He hates that his own memories are tugging at Sorey's, that this is a feeling they both share, but he can't help the relief he feels at the same time, to have someone truly understand. It's different in subtle ways, but similar enough to scratch that unhappy itch. They already share so much of themselves, of their lives, their dreams, their joys. Pain and heartache is a part of that more than ever now, and cautiously he reaches out to embrace it, allowing it to pull them closer together rather than to drag them apart.
Sorey knows because he's been there; Sorey knows because they were in that place together, strangled and aching, miserably free.
He loosens their grip gradually, hands shifting so he can look at them. They're not his hands, but he knows them by sight as if they were, can feel every muscle, the stretch of the skin as their fingers flex, the wrinkled bumps caused by their being underwater for so long. It's reassuring to see them, drawing him out of that dark corner. No claws, no scales. The feathers woven into their hair tickles at their neck and he breathes with Sorey, in and out, moving one hand to press over their chest. In, out. Bump-bump-bump.
It's okay. They're okay.]
I don't like... feeling this way. But I don't know how to- how to not. If that even makes any sense...