He might not always know what to say, or how to say it well, but Hotaru had stuck with him when he'd been angry and hurt and lashing out, burning every bridge that would take a spark. That was, purely and simply, all that she had needed to do to earn his loyalty and a deep, stubborn love that had grown as comfortable as his favorite Deepfrost sweater over the past two years. He hadn't been able to get rid of her at his worst, and now she was stuck with him, come what may.
Tal had long since ceased to be amazed at how such a large soul could fit in such a tiny body as she folded against him; there was only a lump in his throat for how much pain she must feel to reveal such fragility, and an aching tenderness as he shifted to hold her a little closer, a little more comfortably for both of them so she could stay in the circle of his arms as long as she needed to.
Her voice cut straight through him, her words shards of ice that pierced his heart. He knew what she meant. Knew, not as a parent who had lost a child but as a child who had lost his parents could know. How hard it had been to stop seeing their slack faces and empty eyes when he thought of them and instead to remember the slow smiles and warmth of their hands on his shoulders. It had taken years - it still took effort, and conscious intent.
A deep breath. The fear of saying the wrong thing, and the near-paralysis that came with it. Instead he began to rub her back, a slow and gentle circle as he swallowed hard and tried to help the only way he knew how.
"What was he like? Ru'in?" he asked, voice soft and low. "As a kid?"
Tal had long since ceased to be amazed at how such a large soul could fit in such a tiny body as she folded against him; there was only a lump in his throat for how much pain she must feel to reveal such fragility, and an aching tenderness as he shifted to hold her a little closer, a little more comfortably for both of them so she could stay in the circle of his arms as long as she needed to.
Her voice cut straight through him, her words shards of ice that pierced his heart. He knew what she meant. Knew, not as a parent who had lost a child but as a child who had lost his parents could know. How hard it had been to stop seeing their slack faces and empty eyes when he thought of them and instead to remember the slow smiles and warmth of their hands on his shoulders. It had taken years - it still took effort, and conscious intent.
A deep breath. The fear of saying the wrong thing, and the near-paralysis that came with it. Instead he began to rub her back, a slow and gentle circle as he swallowed hard and tried to help the only way he knew how.
"What was he like? Ru'in?" he asked, voice soft and low. "As a kid?"
