[ With Ganymede's head leaned against his chest, he's probably perfectly positioned to hear the way Michel's own heartbeat picks up. Warm? Him? Even before... everything that happened, no one would have called him that. And he's well aware of how bitter and cynical he's become.
Does he want to change? Everyone who feels can be hurt. The idea that he could be a source of comfort to anyone else is... terrifying. And maybe, a tiny bit exhilarating. Slow and tentative, he wraps one arm around Ganymede's waist and lifts a hand to hover just over Ganymede's hair in indecision. ]
It was. An accident. But maybe, ah...
[ It was a little bit of good fortune. He doesn't think he would have reached out for someone else of his own volition. And he's not certain Ganymede would, either. So maybe, this one time, the scales of fate tipped just a little into something — silly and wonderful.
Michel finally makes up his mind and winds the other arm around Ganymede as well, tilting his head to press his cheek lightly to the top of Ganymede's head. Is this too stifling? Is he holding him wrong? His posture is a little stiff with uncertainty. But still, he doesn't intend to let go until Ganymede is ready. ]
...There isn't much I can do for you. But at times when it hurts more keenly, or on days when you feel all you can is force yourself onward, I— I can at least do this.
[ If Ganymede is always this honest with him about his feelings, at any rate. It's giving himself a little too much credit to think he could realize otherwise. ]
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Does he want to change? Everyone who feels can be hurt. The idea that he could be a source of comfort to anyone else is... terrifying. And maybe, a tiny bit exhilarating. Slow and tentative, he wraps one arm around Ganymede's waist and lifts a hand to hover just over Ganymede's hair in indecision. ]
It was. An accident. But maybe, ah...
[ It was a little bit of good fortune. He doesn't think he would have reached out for someone else of his own volition. And he's not certain Ganymede would, either. So maybe, this one time, the scales of fate tipped just a little into something — silly and wonderful.
Michel finally makes up his mind and winds the other arm around Ganymede as well, tilting his head to press his cheek lightly to the top of Ganymede's head. Is this too stifling? Is he holding him wrong? His posture is a little stiff with uncertainty. But still, he doesn't intend to let go until Ganymede is ready. ]
...There isn't much I can do for you. But at times when it hurts more keenly, or on days when you feel all you can is force yourself onward, I— I can at least do this.
[ If Ganymede is always this honest with him about his feelings, at any rate. It's giving himself a little too much credit to think he could realize otherwise. ]