"Yes I did." This feels like it should be more right but there are little things still amiss. Chris doesn't pull away but he doesn't lean into him like he had yesterday either. He smiles and it's not fake but it still seems forced. Not so hard as to be obvious, but something in it is practiced rather than felt. His tone is careful, not in the way Hawke would expect given he's seen to Chris after some terrible things. Careful to hold it in, careful to avoid the perceived failure of not keeping everyone from knowing that you're not alright and don't know how to get there. How can you be lost when you have so many people who care for you? Who are counting on you to be okay?
Maybe that's projecting, but he's not a stranger to those feelings himself. Far from it, they're more like an old ugly blanket you can't bring yourself to throw out because it must have been useful once and might still be despite the holes and torn edges.
"I'm going to worry anyway. You know me, big worrier." It's gentle, a rumble in his chest vibrating around the grip on his heart that has only loosened marginally from the night before. He has his arms around Chris but there's still a distance. He should let go, Chris probably just doesn't want the contact, but that kiss last night...
That wasn't someone who didn't want contact. That was someone who wanted to bury himself in it against the world and denied himself.
"Can't help it. Not when it's you. Which is silly, I know. You'll be alright, you've told me more than even just now, but I can't get past the feeling that you're retreating anyway." It's raw, maybe unfair to point it out, but he can't see any other way to push through it than to talk about it directly. Selfish of him, but that distant look on Chris' face makes his blood cold and he can't leave it.
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Maybe that's projecting, but he's not a stranger to those feelings himself. Far from it, they're more like an old ugly blanket you can't bring yourself to throw out because it must have been useful once and might still be despite the holes and torn edges.
"I'm going to worry anyway. You know me, big worrier." It's gentle, a rumble in his chest vibrating around the grip on his heart that has only loosened marginally from the night before. He has his arms around Chris but there's still a distance. He should let go, Chris probably just doesn't want the contact, but that kiss last night...
That wasn't someone who didn't want contact. That was someone who wanted to bury himself in it against the world and denied himself.
"Can't help it. Not when it's you. Which is silly, I know. You'll be alright, you've told me more than even just now, but I can't get past the feeling that you're retreating anyway." It's raw, maybe unfair to point it out, but he can't see any other way to push through it than to talk about it directly. Selfish of him, but that distant look on Chris' face makes his blood cold and he can't leave it.
He just can't.