[You wanted it. It feels — strange, hearing Rynlan admit to it so easily, without dodging or sidestepping or putting up the sort of fight he's grown to refer to affectionately as bratting. He did want it, didn't he? Wanted it and let that wanting roll over him like an ocean wave and recede back from whence it came, unwilling to force obligation onto Ryn when every telegraph told him to keep his distance, to respect the lines he was drawing in the sand. Wanted it and let it go so he wouldn't want it too much, and it would still be all right in the end.
Oh, I could say I need you, he thinks with the rhythm of the fingers in his hair, eyes half-closed, breathing steady, but then you'd realize that I want you in ways I'm trying to disguise behind "I love you"s that we pretended were lies, when all I wanted was —
...Ah. Oh.]
I did. I do.
[Oh, no.]
...I don't tell you the things I should often enough.
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Oh, I could say I need you, he thinks with the rhythm of the fingers in his hair, eyes half-closed, breathing steady, but then you'd realize that I want you in ways I'm trying to disguise behind "I love you"s that we pretended were lies, when all I wanted was —
...Ah. Oh.]
I did. I do.
[Oh, no.]
...I don't tell you the things I should often enough.