[ For a few long, quiet moments, Trahearne just observes Syrlya. Not out of resentment, or malice, or doubt, but in silent understanding.
His hands shift, unlinking from one another to slowly glide up and around Syrlya's back, pulling him into a gentle hug. He presses his nose, mouth to the top of his head and breathes, inhaling faint lavender. ]
I know.
[ The guilt pricks at him. He shouldn't have doubted, he shouldn't have brought it up. Syrlya clearly isn't happy about this; why did he ever think it a good idea to accuse him of emotional infidelity? ]
I'm sorry.
[ It's funny, because there will always be a small part of Trahearne that thinks he will never be good enough for Syrlya. ]
no subject
His hands shift, unlinking from one another to slowly glide up and around Syrlya's back, pulling him into a gentle hug. He presses his nose, mouth to the top of his head and breathes, inhaling faint lavender. ]
I know.
[ The guilt pricks at him. He shouldn't have doubted, he shouldn't have brought it up. Syrlya clearly isn't happy about this; why did he ever think it a good idea to accuse him of emotional infidelity? ]
I'm sorry.
[ It's funny, because there will always be a small part of Trahearne that thinks he will never be good enough for Syrlya. ]