[ And just like that, Onni is agreeing with him. Granting that, sure, Reynir is right, and maybe he can speak on this even if he isn't an expert. It is such a little thing, but it still makes Reynir's heart stutter with happiness. Because there was a time, he thinks, when Onni would have dug in and argued. Would have insisted that other people know all about that stuff, marked himself as separate. And now, he isn't, and...
Reynir knows he shouldn't hope, because of that. It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't. And yet the excited hope is there, a glowing bright point somewhere deep in his chest. No amount of telling himself he's just reading too much into it all can extinguish it.
He squeezes Onni's hand, when he says the Bond is the closest he'd had to - to what? A relationship? To someone who can balance him out, provide what he's missing? Reynir wants nothing more than to be that person. To soften Onni's edges, be softened by him in turn. To find all the cracks left in him by loss and loneliness and pour love into them until they're overflowing.
Reynir doesn't reply in words. His heart is too full for that, and if he spoke he would probably just say I love you or something silly like that, and he doesn't want to rush things. If there is a chance, any chance at all, that Onni might someday return his affections... he should wait. He shouldn't be reckless. Not when the stakes were so high — when the stakes were maybe hurting Onni by going too fast.
So instead he just bumps his head affectionately against Onni's shoulder, and turns his attention to the maze, eagerness filling him up as he says: ]
Come on. I think we must be getting close to the center, now...
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Reynir knows he shouldn't hope, because of that. It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't. And yet the excited hope is there, a glowing bright point somewhere deep in his chest. No amount of telling himself he's just reading too much into it all can extinguish it.
He squeezes Onni's hand, when he says the Bond is the closest he'd had to - to what? A relationship? To someone who can balance him out, provide what he's missing? Reynir wants nothing more than to be that person. To soften Onni's edges, be softened by him in turn. To find all the cracks left in him by loss and loneliness and pour love into them until they're overflowing.
Reynir doesn't reply in words. His heart is too full for that, and if he spoke he would probably just say I love you or something silly like that, and he doesn't want to rush things. If there is a chance, any chance at all, that Onni might someday return his affections... he should wait. He shouldn't be reckless. Not when the stakes were so high — when the stakes were maybe hurting Onni by going too fast.
So instead he just bumps his head affectionately against Onni's shoulder, and turns his attention to the maze, eagerness filling him up as he says: ]
Come on. I think we must be getting close to the center, now...