[ The accepting of it is still odd for him. The needing of it, more familiar, but odd to acknowledge that it's there, that this is what that feeling is.
It's hard knowing what to do next, but it's worse doing it. He's letting himself be afraid and sad and lonely, like a child, because only in letting can he have any real comfort.
He shifts and lets his head rest against Charles' shoulder. ]
[Spam]
It's hard knowing what to do next, but it's worse doing it. He's letting himself be afraid and sad and lonely, like a child, because only in letting can he have any real comfort.
He shifts and lets his head rest against Charles' shoulder. ]