[ They had wondered before, vaguely, if he found the facts of his existence lonely; if he found that parting painful. If it still hurt.
They think they regret ever asking the question, even in the privacy of their own thoughts; the answer is something that that runs deep and sad and isn't entirely dissimilar to their own feelings, which is distressing as much as it is comforting.
(They wish that the circumstances of their meeting had been better. But wishing was useless with no power to change what was already done.
This will have to be enough.)
After a moment, they shift their position, a more familiar motion of burying their face in his shoulder. It's almost apologetic, almost guilty. A childish gesture.
They have learned much about him, in these last few months. It is not comforting information, and though they would rather know than not, are grateful for that closeness...
no subject
They think they regret ever asking the question, even in the privacy of their own thoughts; the answer is something that that runs deep and sad and isn't entirely dissimilar to their own feelings, which is distressing as much as it is comforting.
(They wish that the circumstances of their meeting had been better. But wishing was useless with no power to change what was already done.
This will have to be enough.)
After a moment, they shift their position, a more familiar motion of burying their face in his shoulder. It's almost apologetic, almost guilty. A childish gesture.
They have learned much about him, in these last few months. It is not comforting information, and though they would rather know than not, are grateful for that closeness...
Sometimes it is a little much. ]