[ He's never had to convince anyone besides himself to live—the only person he'd still cared for before the cult was... happy. The kind of carefree soul that relished a new morning. It's always Nehan who's being pushed along, dragged, whether it's by a leash or fate or revenge or guilt.
So it's a strange, potent relief to hear that Aventurine wants to continue struggling. And it is a struggle, living, so he doesn't know what urges him on to encourage anyone else to try. Maybe it's fear. He doesn't want Aventurine to die again. Or maybe it's the... something, a feeling he hasn't put a name to, that buzzes through him with absolute conceit when he shuts his eyes and they kiss again without any biting and ribbing scattered throughout.
Or it's the disarming and baffling sweetness with how Aventurine handles him, like he's holding something of value. The way he says please instead of making demands. It's kindness and obvious affection. It makes him want to say yes, but he swallows thickly, something heavy and scratchy in his throat, crowding out any attempt at words.
He doesn't leave just yet, hooking the fingers of his weak, numb hand into Aventurine's shirt as he looks at some aimless spot between his neck and shoulder. When he can't figure out how to reject him, or spit out the words to even try—he looks torn for a second, then nods briefly, drawing back in to rest their heads together again, nuzzling in until he's comfortable.
He'll stay for now. They can be together for a while, at least. It's more than either of them usually gets. ]
no subject
So it's a strange, potent relief to hear that Aventurine wants to continue struggling. And it is a struggle, living, so he doesn't know what urges him on to encourage anyone else to try. Maybe it's fear. He doesn't want Aventurine to die again. Or maybe it's the... something, a feeling he hasn't put a name to, that buzzes through him with absolute conceit when he shuts his eyes and they kiss again without any biting and ribbing scattered throughout.
Or it's the disarming and baffling sweetness with how Aventurine handles him, like he's holding something of value. The way he says please instead of making demands. It's kindness and obvious affection. It makes him want to say yes, but he swallows thickly, something heavy and scratchy in his throat, crowding out any attempt at words.
He doesn't leave just yet, hooking the fingers of his weak, numb hand into Aventurine's shirt as he looks at some aimless spot between his neck and shoulder. When he can't figure out how to reject him, or spit out the words to even try—he looks torn for a second, then nods briefly, drawing back in to rest their heads together again, nuzzling in until he's comfortable.
He'll stay for now. They can be together for a while, at least. It's more than either of them usually gets. ]