[The way Reynir looks at him when he pulls back and shakes his head and touches his hair and his face makes something twist up in Onni's gut, and he exhales shakily. His eyes are still a little red-rimmed and wet, but he's not crying, just looking Reynir in the face, and seeing the warmth and tenderness and care that he's so rarely seen in his adult life. The touch feels like it's satisfying a physical need that's been left neglected for too long, long enough that he'd forgotten he even had that need. And it's not nearly enough, just those touches and Reynir's expression and his eyes as he says he hated being here without him.
It's still surreal to hear someone say that he, specifically, is the person they wanted to talk to. Tuuri had said it, on occasion, when serious things were happening in her life, but no one else has wanted him around so singularly, in the way Reynir does. And it had been annoying at first, felt intrusive and grating, like something rubbing a raw nerve, but he realizes now, in retrospect, that the nerve had been raw from years of pain and loneliness, and it's Reynir who'd helped him realize that. Reynir, being so relentless about wanting to be around him and wanting to be his friend and wanting to listen to him and care for him.
So when Reynir drops his hands, Onni lifts both of his and cups Reynir's face with them, holding his jaw gently, leans in to rest his forehead against the younger man's, eyes sinking closed. His breath is a little shaky still, and he can remember it, the way it felt to have Reynir's mouth on his, or on his shoulder and neck, in that bubble. In this moment, where the things that had seemed important before don't anymore, where he feels like all of this could disappear from his life at a moment's notice, it doesn't seem so urgent to keep all of it bottled down. So he leans back and meets Reynir's eyes, still holding his jaw, his thumb shifting to brush against his lower lip.]
I came back, and I remembered everything, and I realized I need you.
[It's quiet, his voice is a little rough, but it's decisive. Certain. His gaze is unwavering, he holds eye contact.]
There are other things changing...inside me, because of you. It isn't just learning to say what I'm feeling or that it's alright to cry. It's needing, too. Wanting.
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It's still surreal to hear someone say that he, specifically, is the person they wanted to talk to. Tuuri had said it, on occasion, when serious things were happening in her life, but no one else has wanted him around so singularly, in the way Reynir does. And it had been annoying at first, felt intrusive and grating, like something rubbing a raw nerve, but he realizes now, in retrospect, that the nerve had been raw from years of pain and loneliness, and it's Reynir who'd helped him realize that. Reynir, being so relentless about wanting to be around him and wanting to be his friend and wanting to listen to him and care for him.
So when Reynir drops his hands, Onni lifts both of his and cups Reynir's face with them, holding his jaw gently, leans in to rest his forehead against the younger man's, eyes sinking closed. His breath is a little shaky still, and he can remember it, the way it felt to have Reynir's mouth on his, or on his shoulder and neck, in that bubble. In this moment, where the things that had seemed important before don't anymore, where he feels like all of this could disappear from his life at a moment's notice, it doesn't seem so urgent to keep all of it bottled down. So he leans back and meets Reynir's eyes, still holding his jaw, his thumb shifting to brush against his lower lip.]
I came back, and I remembered everything, and I realized I need you.
[It's quiet, his voice is a little rough, but it's decisive. Certain. His gaze is unwavering, he holds eye contact.]
There are other things changing...inside me, because of you. It isn't just learning to say what I'm feeling or that it's alright to cry. It's needing, too. Wanting.
[A pause, and he takes a shaky breath.]
Wanting you.