[ There’s real hurt in Reyes’s face, in the coldness of that initial response. Balthier deserves both, even if some part of him is burning to chase it. See how it feels?

But it’s a passing anger. Hot until it crosses his mind and then immediately deflating. His heart hurts at seeing Reyes recoil like this and Scions he did that. This isn’t what he wanted. And now the shame is joining the rest of it and some part of him considers leaving, retreating to his fortress until he can sort this out, come back polished and ready to negotiate.

Assuming Reyes would even let him come back.

Then there’s a hand on his neck, pained words. Nowhere in his calculations had he considered that perhaps Reyes wasn’t … good at this.

That touch is the anchor her needs, the assurance that whatever is happening, whatever happened, this is still open between them. He’s not being told that he’s broken it and to go.

His chest is tight and his words are tighter. ]

I thought…you wanted space. Wanted to keep distance between us. And skies above I tried. I’ve told you. I’m melancholic and needy and clingy. I want all of you, to myself, indefinitely. And I know that isn’t fair to ask.

[ Except now that he’s saying it, he isn’t sure if any of that is true, outside the very real admission of what he wants.

He hesitantly sets his hand on Reyes’s leg. He doesn’t want him to go or yell or push him away. That would have just made it easier if he was being rejected.

He hasn’t considered that he wouldn’t be. ]