[ Bastien has felt better. Less cold, less uncomfortable, less embarrassed, less minimized, less dreading the prospect of anyone patronizingly forcing themselves to be charming over reheated eggs to humor him. The sole reason he’s holding breakfast over the fire, while they’re entwined on the bed, instead of sneaking out the door to find somewhere less miserable to be is because he hasn’t had a moment to touch Byerly or tell him that he loves him and stupid dreams to the contrary are just that. He can’t leave until he has.
But he turns at his name in time to catch Byerly’s concern, and it’s odd to have someone worry about whether he’s all right. Or, no—it’s odd to have someone worry and for that to make Bastien feel comforted, rather than bothered that his armor cracked. For being defended to make him feel something other than regret that he appeared to need it.
He answers Byerly’s worried look and proclamation with a smile, genuine and surprised and a little confused (at himself, at the solid unfluttery warmth in his chest). ]
I love you, too. [ While he’s been given a chance to say it. And, more cheerfully, before he turns back to the fire: ] That is the only reason I have not thrown the food out the window.
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Date: 2021-02-18 12:20 am (UTC)But he turns at his name in time to catch Byerly’s concern, and it’s odd to have someone worry about whether he’s all right. Or, no—it’s odd to have someone worry and for that to make Bastien feel comforted, rather than bothered that his armor cracked. For being defended to make him feel something other than regret that he appeared to need it.
He answers Byerly’s worried look and proclamation with a smile, genuine and surprised and a little confused (at himself, at the solid unfluttery warmth in his chest). ]
I love you, too. [ While he’s been given a chance to say it. And, more cheerfully, before he turns back to the fire: ] That is the only reason I have not thrown the food out the window.