He steps around to meet him, inherent fearlessness mingling with that same shyness— it wasn't so long ago that he was telling himself he wasn't going to do anything like this, but here he is, because it's Louis. If only the genuineness of his feelings made him know, magically, how to take each step. He can't fall back on how he usually operates in relationships (is that what it is?), because those have all ended in disaster.
Also he's still—
Should he treat Louis like a woman? Probably not. But. How the fuck, etc.
More than any flustered nerves, though, is happiness at getting to see him in the flesh again. He squeezes Louis' hand when it touches his, and he covers Louis' other one on his chest. Green-blue eyes today, too dense, like pieces of a broken bottle washed in the sea for years and years instead of the clear water of his mortal ones, but at least not yellow-orange like his maker.
"Uhm— I dunno," and he has to laugh at himself, caught up in snooping. He glances at his watch (still ever-present, hasn't picked up a nicer one yet). "Little over half an hour, looks like."
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Also he's still—
Should he treat Louis like a woman? Probably not. But. How the fuck, etc.
More than any flustered nerves, though, is happiness at getting to see him in the flesh again. He squeezes Louis' hand when it touches his, and he covers Louis' other one on his chest. Green-blue eyes today, too dense, like pieces of a broken bottle washed in the sea for years and years instead of the clear water of his mortal ones, but at least not yellow-orange like his maker.
"Uhm— I dunno," and he has to laugh at himself, caught up in snooping. He glances at his watch (still ever-present, hasn't picked up a nicer one yet). "Little over half an hour, looks like."