[It's funny, because that thin little thread of longing wasn't even necessarily the gentle stirring of a heart coming into new affections. It's just an impossibly isolated person who's spent year after year praying to a distant and silent god, cold as a crypt, with nothing to show for the rivers of blood he's spilled but wasted time, a precious sister in danger, and no one at all to turn to.
But here, impossibly, he's found exactly that. In such a painful situation, he's found someone who is there every time he turns around. It's the comfort of a shadow at his back, dependable and ever-present. That's why Scien's death had rattled him and triggered the cascade of miserable and furious emotions that set off his violence; it had felt so lonely, seeing that battered and bleeding corpse, even if it made the venomous part of him sing.
Scien catches his hand and he reflexively tugs, but it's light enough that even a hold like this can keep him, which says everything when he's still so terribly strong. Scien speaks again, and his heart aches. Week after week, there he is - the devil he'd never wanted to know, who warms his cold body, places his comfort in his hands, refuses to leave him be even when he's a violent, nasty mess, baring his teeth and ready to tear into him.
In the end, how else is a lonely person meant to respond to being told over and over and over that they're who somebody chooses? Scien's hold relaxes, and Lucas's fingers twitch against his palm in the reflexive desire to pull away and the equally reflexive conflicting desire to leave his hand where it is. Hilariously, this feels like a decision that's genuinely quite difficult for him and his dumb ass doesn't even realize he's getting romanced about it. But it's very hard, admitting in even small ways that you want another person around, when you've been strong on your own for so long.]
...You've said that before, too. You're a terribly strange person, you know... Even if I try, or ask all the questions in the world, I don't know that I'll be able to understand you.
[But his hand remains where it is, featherlight and still.]
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But here, impossibly, he's found exactly that. In such a painful situation, he's found someone who is there every time he turns around. It's the comfort of a shadow at his back, dependable and ever-present. That's why Scien's death had rattled him and triggered the cascade of miserable and furious emotions that set off his violence; it had felt so lonely, seeing that battered and bleeding corpse, even if it made the venomous part of him sing.
Scien catches his hand and he reflexively tugs, but it's light enough that even a hold like this can keep him, which says everything when he's still so terribly strong. Scien speaks again, and his heart aches. Week after week, there he is - the devil he'd never wanted to know, who warms his cold body, places his comfort in his hands, refuses to leave him be even when he's a violent, nasty mess, baring his teeth and ready to tear into him.
In the end, how else is a lonely person meant to respond to being told over and over and over that they're who somebody chooses? Scien's hold relaxes, and Lucas's fingers twitch against his palm in the reflexive desire to pull away and the equally reflexive conflicting desire to leave his hand where it is. Hilariously, this feels like a decision that's genuinely quite difficult for him and his dumb ass doesn't even realize he's getting romanced about it. But it's very hard, admitting in even small ways that you want another person around, when you've been strong on your own for so long.]
...You've said that before, too. You're a terribly strange person, you know... Even if I try, or ask all the questions in the world, I don't know that I'll be able to understand you.
[But his hand remains where it is, featherlight and still.]