Oh, and this man may have a whole host of names Huaisang can't parse (Scentless? How would-? Never mind), but what must it be like, to cherish someone so completely, so unabashed? Before this, the pain of absence, which makes Huaisang feel a sharp pang of guilt, to envy them even slightly. He puts that thought away; talk about badly timed. Instead he shifts to tuck his other arm into the crook of Fitz's, shaking his head. The only thing he knows to do in a crisis is to hold on quite literally like this, even if the would-be helper is usually not, well, himself.
He's trying. He will not-quite-hug onto Fitz's arm for all the good it will do, and it seems to be doing enough. He'll take it. There's a moment where he opens his mouth to speak, to say something about how if it's fine that he should openly weep, then surely Fitz can do it too, it's fine—
But oh, the sleeping arrangements, that, ah- that is forward, even coming from the wolf. Not objectionable, if he thinks about it (and okay, okay: he already thought about it); there are half a dozen practical reasons alone to sleep side-by-side in this bed, to say nothing of the handful of selfish ones. Still. Even hanging on Fitz's arm like this, Huaisang has the decency to flush at least a little pink, so they can both be politely reticent about this obvious solution.
See, it works. He hums and looks down at his own hands, like oh gosh, let him think about this, what a dilemma. How does one say yes to this in a calm, chill way...
"'I don't try to remember, but forgetting is hard.'" You quote poetry at him, absolutely, this is normal— He's looping back around to the first part, give him a second. "You should consider yourself, like you did for me, and not apologize for being a man with a heart."
Or: Permission to cry, you know, whenever. Huaisang huffs and nods; there, the serious part is done, now this other thing. He glances down at himself - would really rather not sleep in the outer robe, it's expensive, but here on the verge of getting to sleep he is too tired to care, and maybe taking off even that bit of clothing would cross a line? Ah, forget it.
"I don't mind. Isn't the other bed Nighteyes' territory already, anyway...?" Ha ha. But really though, and he musters up the pluck to actually look Fitz in the face to say this (the bold part his brothers can never know about, whew), "I don't want to be alone."
no subject
He's trying. He will not-quite-hug onto Fitz's arm for all the good it will do, and it seems to be doing enough. He'll take it. There's a moment where he opens his mouth to speak, to say something about how if it's fine that he should openly weep, then surely Fitz can do it too, it's fine—
But oh, the sleeping arrangements, that, ah- that is forward, even coming from the wolf. Not objectionable, if he thinks about it (and okay, okay: he already thought about it); there are half a dozen practical reasons alone to sleep side-by-side in this bed, to say nothing of the handful of selfish ones. Still. Even hanging on Fitz's arm like this, Huaisang has the decency to flush at least a little pink, so they can both be politely reticent about this obvious solution.
See, it works. He hums and looks down at his own hands, like oh gosh, let him think about this, what a dilemma. How does one say yes to this in a calm, chill way...
"'I don't try to remember, but forgetting is hard.'" You quote poetry at him, absolutely, this is normal— He's looping back around to the first part, give him a second. "You should consider yourself, like you did for me, and not apologize for being a man with a heart."
Or: Permission to cry, you know, whenever. Huaisang huffs and nods; there, the serious part is done, now this other thing. He glances down at himself - would really rather not sleep in the outer robe, it's expensive, but here on the verge of getting to sleep he is too tired to care, and maybe taking off even that bit of clothing would cross a line? Ah, forget it.
"I don't mind. Isn't the other bed Nighteyes' territory already, anyway...?" Ha ha. But really though, and he musters up the pluck to actually look Fitz in the face to say this (the bold part his brothers can never know about, whew), "I don't want to be alone."