It’s an invitation he’s both desperate to latch onto and hesitant to take. The corners of his lips tug into a crooked frown. His hand wraps around the cuff, eclipsing the crystal, and he resists the rising urge of his leg to bounce restlessly.
He’s grateful, at least, for the gadget holding Viktor’s gaze. It means Viktor doesn’t see his faltered starts — the small rise of his chest on the inhale, the unproductive parting of lips, the brief furrow to his brow, or the swallow that sounds so awkwardly loud to his own ears. It isn’t a new affair to disagree with one another, but the depth of this rift holds no precedence.
It feels like the strife upon the bridge, only this time the cacophony of anger, frustration, fire and smoke, and all that narrowly contained violence — it feels like it simmers within. Between, rather than against.
Most of it is displaced, he thinks, but the rest…
His gaze drops. “Look, what I said the other day… to make you leave the way you did.” He turns his head away, eyes closed. “It was shitty of me.”
no subject
He’s grateful, at least, for the gadget holding Viktor’s gaze. It means Viktor doesn’t see his faltered starts — the small rise of his chest on the inhale, the unproductive parting of lips, the brief furrow to his brow, or the swallow that sounds so awkwardly loud to his own ears. It isn’t a new affair to disagree with one another, but the depth of this rift holds no precedence.
It feels like the strife upon the bridge, only this time the cacophony of anger, frustration, fire and smoke, and all that narrowly contained violence — it feels like it simmers within. Between, rather than against.
Most of it is displaced, he thinks, but the rest…
His gaze drops. “Look, what I said the other day… to make you leave the way you did.” He turns his head away, eyes closed. “It was shitty of me.”