( He can't remember when the last time someone held his hand was. Maybe Sylvain, he thinks? In that briefest time that lasted, long before Fragment. Even then, there was an undercurrent of - tension. A sort of sense that it wasn't going to last, and it was sort of just for show. They were too much like each other, and staring into a mirror unnerved them.
Tylor isn't like him, though - the way he is now, the way he was then. He doesn't understand how Tylor thinks of feels, and he doesn't know if he especially needs or wants to.
But the feeling, he guesses, of their fingers interlaced, doesn't feel bad. It's something warm in this city of endless night. )
... I don't know. ( He doesn't know if he misses him. He doesn't know if he misses that brief spark of affection, or the concept of liking someone. He isn't sure. ) I'd already accepted I'd be be alone, though. I don't know why I confessed, in the end.
( Tylor hasn't accepted that much, though, he figures. )
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Tylor isn't like him, though - the way he is now, the way he was then. He doesn't understand how Tylor thinks of feels, and he doesn't know if he especially needs or wants to.
But the feeling, he guesses, of their fingers interlaced, doesn't feel bad. It's something warm in this city of endless night. )
... I don't know. ( He doesn't know if he misses him. He doesn't know if he misses that brief spark of affection, or the concept of liking someone. He isn't sure. ) I'd already accepted I'd be be alone, though. I don't know why I confessed, in the end.
( Tylor hasn't accepted that much, though, he figures. )