[For a moment, he tenses at the question. It makes him think for a moment, how blind and desperate he had been for companionship, and how he convinced himself he could live in cold solitude after.
It's like having the wound ripped open again, left the scab as Trevor relieves him of an answer. A part of him wants to explain, but not as much as he doesn't.
He huffs out through his nose, then shifts as he rolls over to face Trevor.]
It isn't the same if you fake it. It would feel patronizing.
[What he does do is reach up tentatively to take Trevor's hand, then presses his cheek into it. It's rough with calluses, but warm. Not like how Trevor generally is.]
no subject
It's like having the wound ripped open again, left the scab as Trevor relieves him of an answer. A part of him wants to explain, but not as much as he doesn't.
He huffs out through his nose, then shifts as he rolls over to face Trevor.]
It isn't the same if you fake it. It would feel patronizing.
[What he does do is reach up tentatively to take Trevor's hand, then presses his cheek into it. It's rough with calluses, but warm. Not like how Trevor generally is.]