[ He's careful, using the time that Sypha's supporting the glass as a chance to get his head around the shape of it. He sips at it carefully once she lets go (it's one of his rules, the stupid arbitary ones he's made to avoid feeling too pathetic, that he feeds himself. The others can make things easier for him, but food and drink go to his mouth under his own steam).
There's a lump in his throat as he swallows, the temptation to just curl up and sob, because it's safe to now, returning. He manages to push it down. He's content now, as much as he ever could be in this situation.
(It's probably a little fucked up that it's when he's content that he feels the most vulnerable, open and raw and suddenly finding it so easy to express the despair from before. He will avoid thinking about that later.) ]
Thanks. I- [ He says, curling around the glass as if it were an extension of Sypha. This one isn't going to break. ] -thanks. This was all I fucking wanted in the first place.
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There's a lump in his throat as he swallows, the temptation to just curl up and sob, because it's safe to now, returning. He manages to push it down. He's content now, as much as he ever could be in this situation.
(It's probably a little fucked up that it's when he's content that he feels the most vulnerable, open and raw and suddenly finding it so easy to express the despair from before. He will avoid thinking about that later.) ]
Thanks. I- [ He says, curling around the glass as if it were an extension of Sypha. This one isn't going to break. ] -thanks. This was all I fucking wanted in the first place.