It's a frustrating response to hear, but likely a different sort than Cilan is feeling. He drops his arms, hold weakening, but clinging loosely now onto the back of his shirt, not yet knowing completely if he should move away.
Cilan didn't want him to feel this way for him, but how else was he supposed to feel? What else could he say that would be any good? Behind him, patches of the damp wood of the table turn a burnt colour, losing strength. ]
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It's a frustrating response to hear, but likely a different sort than Cilan is feeling. He drops his arms, hold weakening, but clinging loosely now onto the back of his shirt, not yet knowing completely if he should move away.
Cilan didn't want him to feel this way for him, but how else was he supposed to feel? What else could he say that would be any good? Behind him, patches of the damp wood of the table turn a burnt colour, losing strength. ]
...Do you want me to go?