[In their weighted way, his clamped lashes flutter when he glances up to his fellow captive's face with mild uncertainty. The tears still come. Residually, guiltily. He feels blatant and obvious now, no pretense to withdraw behind, and the awkward air keeps him reluctant a moment or more longer.
His motivation for pushing past it is Miyuki's hand, his thumb, running over soft, nervous flesh. No one's ever touched him while he wept sincerely—when he's produced crocodile tears, sure, but this is too honest, and he can hardly think of anything more humiliating. So as not to bare himself further, he opts to not look him in the eye or face again at this point. And then he's got to put himself in a certain state of mind, since he himself is definitely not worth saving.
If he doesn't look up, it can be someone elses trousers and crotch, right? With considerably less confidence, none at all in fact, he finally cups the older boy obediently over pants, only cradling doubtfully for now.]
no subject
His motivation for pushing past it is Miyuki's hand, his thumb, running over soft, nervous flesh. No one's ever touched him while he wept sincerely—when he's produced crocodile tears, sure, but this is too honest, and he can hardly think of anything more humiliating. So as not to bare himself further, he opts to not look him in the eye or face again at this point. And then he's got to put himself in a certain state of mind, since he himself is definitely not worth saving.
If he doesn't look up, it can be someone elses trousers and crotch, right? With considerably less confidence, none at all in fact, he finally cups the older boy obediently over pants, only cradling doubtfully for now.]