[Truth be told, he's not entirely sure what that means. He's been told he's a lot of different things, too many to count: useless and strong and brave and beautiful and dangerous and evil and good at heart. Mista tells him that he's lucky. But he doesn't know what a little much means. A little much isn't the same as a little too much, which he supposes is what Fugo means when he says he doesn't make him feel uncomfortable. But a little much what, then? More than other people? More than he should be, or should have?]
[He stares at Fugo with wide eyes as his hand rests over their fingers joined together. It's strange, feeling so uncertain and so safe all at once, so content to be still and yet so jittery. It feels like there's a fishhook caught under his rib cage.]
[Hesitantly, he ducks his head and tucks a stray piece of hair behind his ear with his free hand.]
Is that . . . is it good? To be a little much. Do I make you feel good?
no subject
[Truth be told, he's not entirely sure what that means. He's been told he's a lot of different things, too many to count: useless and strong and brave and beautiful and dangerous and evil and good at heart. Mista tells him that he's lucky. But he doesn't know what a little much means. A little much isn't the same as a little too much, which he supposes is what Fugo means when he says he doesn't make him feel uncomfortable. But a little much what, then? More than other people? More than he should be, or should have?]
[He stares at Fugo with wide eyes as his hand rests over their fingers joined together. It's strange, feeling so uncertain and so safe all at once, so content to be still and yet so jittery. It feels like there's a fishhook caught under his rib cage.]
[Hesitantly, he ducks his head and tucks a stray piece of hair behind his ear with his free hand.]
Is that . . . is it good? To be a little much. Do I make you feel good?