[ Amos can only assume it's some kind of trepidation that's bringing Hayame pause, the way she stares at his hands but makes no move towards them. It doesn't make sense otherwise; she's the one who had initiated this exchange and he'd very clearly laid out the terms. There's no more reason for them to wait.
And then she reaches out, her blood pressing against his shard, his fingers instinctively tightening so that her shard won't fall between them, and...
Oh.
It's a light curiosity skimming over the surface of his thoughts as with their connection comes her memory of a day some months ago. A completely innocuous one, by his standards — she'd invited him to a restaurant. The food was good. There was pollen in the air. They'd touched one another over the table some, and it had been warm and pleasant, and then it had been over.
Why is she thinking about that? flits across his mind, a light and airy thought taking brief flight over the maelstrom below, because it's easier.
Because underneath that is his heart in a vice, his lungs out of breath, his very being choked and strangled for what he needs back. Amos with a man and a woman, warming up his insides with a hearty swig of tequila on a snow-covered landscape, physically cold but emotionally warm thanks to the company he's keeping. With three other people, gathered around a table in a ship's galley, the environment cold and sterile and yet happy, a joy in the mundane of simply being around chosen family. A boy, battered and bruised, curled up on a threadbare-soft couch, his eyes peacefully shut and contented smile on his face as he rests his head in the lap of a woman who murmurs sweet nothings to him as she cards her fingers through his hair.
These are all good things, and beneath them all Amos is screaming as he reaches for them, hand outstretched as his lungs fill up with dirt and he suffocates kills himself under the burying burying burying of longing nostalgia to live without these people is not a life worth living he is the only one left he shouldn't be why can't he bring them here with him why can't he go back home he needs to go back home he has to be able to go back home...
And outwardly he is calm but for his face twisting in discomfort as emotions he can't understand has never opened himself up to roil around in his psyche in his soul, looking down at their hands and wondering why Hayame is thinking about that day in Springstar. ]
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And then she reaches out, her blood pressing against his shard, his fingers instinctively tightening so that her shard won't fall between them, and...
Oh.
It's a light curiosity skimming over the surface of his thoughts as with their connection comes her memory of a day some months ago. A completely innocuous one, by his standards — she'd invited him to a restaurant. The food was good. There was pollen in the air. They'd touched one another over the table some, and it had been warm and pleasant, and then it had been over.
Why is she thinking about that? flits across his mind, a light and airy thought taking brief flight over the maelstrom below, because it's easier.
Because underneath that is his heart in a vice, his lungs out of breath, his very being choked and strangled for what he needs back. Amos with a man and a woman, warming up his insides with a hearty swig of tequila on a snow-covered landscape, physically cold but emotionally warm thanks to the company he's keeping. With three other people, gathered around a table in a ship's galley, the environment cold and sterile and yet happy, a joy in the mundane of simply being around chosen family. A boy, battered and bruised, curled up on a threadbare-soft couch, his eyes peacefully shut and contented smile on his face as he rests his head in the lap of a woman who murmurs sweet nothings to him as she cards her fingers through his hair.
These are all good things, and beneath them all Amos is screaming as he reaches for them, hand outstretched as his lungs fill up with dirt and he suffocates kills himself under the burying burying burying of longing nostalgia to live without these people is not a life worth living he is the only one left he shouldn't be why can't he bring them here with him why can't he go back home he needs to go back home he has to be able to go back home...
And outwardly he is calm but for his face twisting in discomfort as emotions he can't understand has never opened himself up to roil around in his psyche in his soul, looking down at their hands and wondering why Hayame is thinking about that day in Springstar. ]