[ They're overdue a bit of luck today. Michel's expression relaxes very slightly at the sight of the empty room, although he freezes up again when Ganymede's hand brushes his, his lips parting in surprise.
The memory was just a fragment. So many words Ganymede hadn't been privy to are still ringing in his own thoughts. If Ganymede heard, he might change his mind just as quickly: this touch, this consolation is a gift intended for Winter, the person Ganymede thinks he is, even if he uses Michel's name instead now.
Still. Michel curls his fingers hesitantly against Ganymede's in cautious acknowledgment. ]
I never intended to compare the two.
[ No persuasion would have dragged his own circumstances from him, honestly. He swallows, fumbling for words as he looks down at Ganymede. "What could you possibly have to say, after all that," indeed. ]
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The memory was just a fragment. So many words Ganymede hadn't been privy to are still ringing in his own thoughts. If Ganymede heard, he might change his mind just as quickly: this touch, this consolation is a gift intended for Winter, the person Ganymede thinks he is, even if he uses Michel's name instead now.
Still. Michel curls his fingers hesitantly against Ganymede's in cautious acknowledgment. ]
I never intended to compare the two.
[ No persuasion would have dragged his own circumstances from him, honestly. He swallows, fumbling for words as he looks down at Ganymede. "What could you possibly have to say, after all that," indeed. ]
That... was Ilus, wasn't it? I'm sorry.