[It's not his fault. It's not his fault. Wilhelm doesn't believe it yet, but the words are soft and lovely nonetheless, and he wants to hold onto them. One by one, he lets go of the arguments gathered on his tongue. They'll come back later, all the ifs and buts that have weighed on his heart all week. But for now, he tries to see the situation through Rhy's much kinder eyes.
Readily curling into the comfort that Rhy offers, he keeps his head there on his shoulder and clasps the other's hand between both of his. He says nothing for a long moment, neither capable of agreeing nor eager to deny the absolution he craves. Finally, he mumbles into Rhy's shirt:]
Can you just...sit with me a little longer? Please.
[ Rhy assures him. He takes to stroking Wilhelm's head gently, fingers running through his hair. ]
Did you know? The rosebushes over there by the balcony were grown from seeds, using only sunlight and water. One of the gardeners told me they're her passion project. No magic, she said.
Isn't that amazing?
[ He keeps talking, distracting Wilhelm without letting him go, chatting about inconsequential things and stroking his hair. They can talk about the rest another time. About the war, the burning crops, the hard winter ahead. But Rhy is tired of talking about all that too; he much prefers to tell Wilhelm all he's learned about the garden and let their minds wander for just a little while. ]
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no subject
Readily curling into the comfort that Rhy offers, he keeps his head there on his shoulder and clasps the other's hand between both of his. He says nothing for a long moment, neither capable of agreeing nor eager to deny the absolution he craves. Finally, he mumbles into Rhy's shirt:]
Can you just...sit with me a little longer? Please.
[It's nice here.]
no subject
[ Rhy assures him. He takes to stroking Wilhelm's head gently, fingers running through his hair. ]
Did you know? The rosebushes over there by the balcony were grown from seeds, using only sunlight and water. One of the gardeners told me they're her passion project. No magic, she said.
Isn't that amazing?
[ He keeps talking, distracting Wilhelm without letting him go, chatting about inconsequential things and stroking his hair. They can talk about the rest another time. About the war, the burning crops, the hard winter ahead. But Rhy is tired of talking about all that too; he much prefers to tell Wilhelm all he's learned about the garden and let their minds wander for just a little while. ]