[It is a familiar ritual that he allows himself to be lead through, just as he himself had steered Hythlodaeus through the first steps. They are both well-practiced, and it's not long before his own hair is rinsed clean, the water doing its part to rid the both of them of the sheen of sweat and smell of sex that clings so stubbornly.
His smile warms at the affectionate press of their brows, drawing his hand from the small of Hythlodaeus' back all the way up the length of his spine, allowing it to rest gently at the back of his neck as he closes his eyes in turn. It is a small but perfect moment, one in which he does not question who he is or where he belongs.
Hythlodaeus could never make him question his place in the world as it is now. Beyond the door to their room, he knows not if he even has the right to walk among the people who call this star home, but here, he can be himself, or something closer to who he once was.]
Say it as much as you like— I'll never tire of hearing it.
[Nor will he tire of saying it himself.]
I missed you.
[He thought they had said goodbye forever, and then, when the plan that had given him the faintest glimmer of hope that they might see one another had gone awry...
For so long, all he could do was content himself with a shadow of the past, an echo, and that was never going to be enough, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise.]
no subject
His smile warms at the affectionate press of their brows, drawing his hand from the small of Hythlodaeus' back all the way up the length of his spine, allowing it to rest gently at the back of his neck as he closes his eyes in turn. It is a small but perfect moment, one in which he does not question who he is or where he belongs.
Hythlodaeus could never make him question his place in the world as it is now. Beyond the door to their room, he knows not if he even has the right to walk among the people who call this star home, but here, he can be himself, or something closer to who he once was.]
Say it as much as you like— I'll never tire of hearing it.
[Nor will he tire of saying it himself.]
I missed you.
[He thought they had said goodbye forever, and then, when the plan that had given him the faintest glimmer of hope that they might see one another had gone awry...
For so long, all he could do was content himself with a shadow of the past, an echo, and that was never going to be enough, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise.]