[L is starving. The modest breakfast is a tempting spread, light and sweet, just the sort of thing he goes in for, but he looks past it toward his groggy Bonded, trying to figure out what Myr needs. He recognizes something in the mood and the posture, because he's felt it, is feeling it now beyond the vicarious connection. Avoidance is the clear read; it's what keeps him from crossing a certain threshold, wondering if it would be better to retreat back to the bedroom, or the cottage's front door, but...
...those steps would take him back to Niles, tear his stitches out, mash the chimera into a wall. He'd deserve it for putting L in this painful place, for letting their feud double back to hurt Myr again. High on his cheekbones and creeping toward his hairline is a stinging warmth; it's shame, or something like it, but the impulse is there to take it out of this place that Myr made a home, give way to flight and dogged pursuit and this time, aim to kill so this never has to happen again.]
Oh, you... know, it's...
[The words stick in his throat, nothing like the easy flow of communication through their Bond.]
Fine.
[Really, this time. His head and heart are different matters entirely, which Myr must be able to feel; cracked and jagged things, scrambled like broken mirrors whose pieces have been kicked and scattered across the floor.
He glances up at his Bonded, looking so tired and miserable after sleeping at the table. Swallows; he's still parched.]
If... you need some time, I can go.
[He wants to take some of this crushing feeling, this weight, away from this house. Place it where it belongs, at Niles' feet, and finish it the way it should already have been finished.
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...those steps would take him back to Niles, tear his stitches out, mash the chimera into a wall. He'd deserve it for putting L in this painful place, for letting their feud double back to hurt Myr again. High on his cheekbones and creeping toward his hairline is a stinging warmth; it's shame, or something like it, but the impulse is there to take it out of this place that Myr made a home, give way to flight and dogged pursuit and this time, aim to kill so this never has to happen again.]
Oh, you... know, it's...
[The words stick in his throat, nothing like the easy flow of communication through their Bond.]
Fine.
[Really, this time. His head and heart are different matters entirely, which Myr must be able to feel; cracked and jagged things, scrambled like broken mirrors whose pieces have been kicked and scattered across the floor.
He glances up at his Bonded, looking so tired and miserable after sleeping at the table. Swallows; he's still parched.]
If... you need some time, I can go.
[He wants to take some of this crushing feeling, this weight, away from this house. Place it where it belongs, at Niles' feet, and finish it the way it should already have been finished.
He actively hopes for Myr to tell him he can go.]