[ sorry, rome: you deserve better than to have to put up with morgan's strange bout of self-consciousness and loathing. he sighs, rocking his head back against rome's shoulder and sort of just staring up at the ceiling. ]
Do you ever get sad? Is that an emotion you're like, physically capable of feeling?
I don't know what to do here. I don't know how to act around others- especially you. I don't have anyone who knows how to handle me if something goes awry. I don't have the other wolves in my squad, who know me and who I understand.
[Rome swallows hard. He wasn't exactly expecting ever having to talk about this.]
[It's such an inane request. Rome looks down toward Morgan then, bewildered but eventually complies, bringing his fingers to Morgan's hair in a halfhearted attempt at a scratch.]
[Rome awkwardly continues patting at him. It gets a little more comfortable, and he's able to run his thumb along the outside of Morgan's brow, looking down at him with an expression that's thankfully less horrified confusion now and more just- curiosity.]
Several things. Chocolates- a jacket, like yours. A strange costume.
[ morgan stares up at him, expression carefully neutral, though he does briefly close his eyes when rome's thumb moves along the outside of his brow. it's not a bad response - he's sort of just savoring it.
he's gotten a little touch-starved here in hadriel. ]
I'll take your chocolates.
[ said very solemnly, like he's offering to take a burden off rome to himself. ]
[He has no complaints about that- not that he doesn't like them, but he doesn't really feel any which way about them. Rome exhales, running his fingers absently through Morgan's hair.
[ he keeps his eyes shut - partially because this does feel really nice, but mostly because it's embarrassing in a way he's not ready to admit to both say this out loud and look at rome. ]
Kind of afraid too, I guess? Lonely, whatever. Congrats, you're my therapist now.
[As usual, he goes a little still at the touch, but doesn't flinch away. Even something as simple as this is completely out of his depths- he doesn't know how to react, but he hasn't known how to react for awhile now. He manages, somehow.]
[Being kissed has been so far out of the spectrum of possibility, even with all of the casual contact and recent conversation. Rome has never been kissed before and while he's familiar with the concept, it's not something that he ever anticipated happening to him.
Certainly not from Morgan. Certainly not here.
He freezes up, unresponsive, doesn't bother closing his eyes, just stays there while Morgan tries to find some semblance of companionship in him.]
[ what was he expecting? he doesn't really know. morgan had never really been great at the whole 'foresight' thing, and this was no exception. he can feel rome freeze beneath him and that's when he knows it's over, that his entire stupid impulse has petered out to nothing, and he sort of sighs as he drops his hand and breaks the contact. ]
Sorry.
[ it's a bland, distant sort of apology, even as he sits up and leans down to start pulling his shoes back on. ]
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Do you ever get sad? Is that an emotion you're like, physically capable of feeling?
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Yes.
[It's a little quiet.]
I feel many things. Sadness is no different. But... [he shakes his head.] You have to compartmentalize, to do what I do.
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[ he's still staring at the ceiling, a bundle of terse, uncomfortable energy. ]
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[He presses his lips together, conflicted. Rome has to think for a long few moments, before speaking slowly.]
I'm afraid. More than you'd believe, I think.
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What are you afraid of?
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[He explains, not meeting Morgan's eyes.]
I don't know what to do here. I don't know how to act around others- especially you. I don't have anyone who knows how to handle me if something goes awry. I don't have the other wolves in my squad, who know me and who I understand.
[Rome swallows hard. He wasn't exactly expecting ever having to talk about this.]
The freedom is... stifling.
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You should scratch my head.
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[It's such an inane request. Rome looks down toward Morgan then, bewildered but eventually complies, bringing his fingers to Morgan's hair in a halfhearted attempt at a scratch.]
Why?
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Giving you some structure. What'd you win in paintball?
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Several things. Chocolates- a jacket, like yours. A strange costume.
[He shrugs.]
Nothing that I could put to good use.
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he's gotten a little touch-starved here in hadriel. ]
I'll take your chocolates.
[ said very solemnly, like he's offering to take a burden off rome to himself. ]
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[He has no complaints about that- not that he doesn't like them, but he doesn't really feel any which way about them. Rome exhales, running his fingers absently through Morgan's hair.
And then, turning the question back on Morgan:]
What do you feel?
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[ he keeps his eyes shut - partially because this does feel really nice, but mostly because it's embarrassing in a way he's not ready to admit to both say this out loud and look at rome. ]
Kind of afraid too, I guess? Lonely, whatever. Congrats, you're my therapist now.
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[It's said with a small trace of amusement.]
But you aren't alone.
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[He echoes, nodding once.]
Would you? If they gave you the chance.
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[ he seems vaguely relieved at rome's easy agreement. he reaches up then, gingerly touching his fingertips to his cheek, just gauging his reaction. ]
Maybe? Depends.
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[As usual, he goes a little still at the touch, but doesn't flinch away. Even something as simple as this is completely out of his depths- he doesn't know how to react, but he hasn't known how to react for awhile now. He manages, somehow.]
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[ he's - testing the waters, maybe? trying to pull rome's face down toward him. he has no idea why. ]
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[He presses, moving a little with Morgan's hand but stopping after a few inches, his brow furrowed in confusion.]
...what are you doing?
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[ and morgan's face is still carefully, stupidly impassive. ]
Come here.
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...Morgan?
[Almost apprehensive now.]
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loneliness is a hell of a thing. ]
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Certainly not from Morgan. Certainly not here.
He freezes up, unresponsive, doesn't bother closing his eyes, just stays there while Morgan tries to find some semblance of companionship in him.]
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Sorry.
[ it's a bland, distant sort of apology, even as he sits up and leans down to start pulling his shoes back on. ]
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