[When feels the prickle of lips ghosting his skin, and before memories of nights warmed by laughter and wine flood his mind, there is a moment in which he hopes that he might learn to appreciate and accept this one day more than he can now. The fear at what would happen when he’d lift his hand away and break that connection is lost in a chaotic whirl of emotions as he twists away, the look in his eyes as sharp and cutting - and as fragile - as broken glass. Accusatory, lost.]
Don’t-- [He spits it through gritted teeth, staring. But the rest abandons him, words, and what remains of coherent, rational thought. And as he feels Zevran’s eyes still on his face and his own regrets bear down with the weight of all the world, his cracked mask quietly crumbles away like the sketches in the fire. He lunges, all adrenaline and impulse, before his mind has the chance to catch up with him. Lunging to steal a bruising kiss from a mouth he remembers too well, framing his face with grasping, uncertain hands.]
action
Don’t-- [He spits it through gritted teeth, staring. But the rest abandons him, words, and what remains of coherent, rational thought. And as he feels Zevran’s eyes still on his face and his own regrets bear down with the weight of all the world, his cracked mask quietly crumbles away like the sketches in the fire. He lunges, all adrenaline and impulse, before his mind has the chance to catch up with him. Lunging to steal a bruising kiss from a mouth he remembers too well, framing his face with grasping, uncertain hands.]