[Unseen, or perhaps not, the slightest hint of a smile curves at his lips. At the corners of his eyes, too, and maybe more there than anywhere. It's a subtle thing, charmed and relieved and tired all at once. Complicated. I suppose you're right about that. The joke, of course, is that neither of them really knows any better than the other.]
I'd like to think so, anyway.
[His voice is quiet, as though they're in a library. Fugo's room isn't a sacred place, he's spent plenty of time in here, but — this moment is a moment that deserves respect, he supposes. That's what makes it different. So as he follows Fugo in, he doesn't take up as much space as he might on another day; doesn't let his being leach out and infect every surface, doesn't claim everything as his own on instinct. Just leans against Fugo's dresser, hands in his pockets.]
Secretly, I'm not an authority on everything. [Not even Bonds. Certainly not Fugo, even if he wants to know everything about him. Even if not knowing how to fix this for him fucking hurts.]
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I'd like to think so, anyway.
[His voice is quiet, as though they're in a library. Fugo's room isn't a sacred place, he's spent plenty of time in here, but — this moment is a moment that deserves respect, he supposes. That's what makes it different. So as he follows Fugo in, he doesn't take up as much space as he might on another day; doesn't let his being leach out and infect every surface, doesn't claim everything as his own on instinct. Just leans against Fugo's dresser, hands in his pockets.]
Secretly, I'm not an authority on everything. [Not even Bonds. Certainly not Fugo, even if he wants to know everything about him. Even if not knowing how to fix this for him fucking hurts.]