Alfred's eyeline dips down to where his hand is being held, stroked...and when it raises again, his gaze is full of tears.
He's good enough.
"Thank you," he mumbles, hoarse. He very much wants to climb into the Count's arms, be held there until everything he's feeling makes some kind of sense...but he has a lap full of books.
So all Georg gets for now is the sense of longing, a want for closeness that is (at least mostly) sweet, innocent.
"...It's...hard to get used to, thinking of myself that way."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2022-01-14 11:57 am (UTC)Alfred's eyeline dips down to where his hand is being held, stroked...and when it raises again, his gaze is full of tears.
He's good enough.
"Thank you," he mumbles, hoarse. He very much wants to climb into the Count's arms, be held there until everything he's feeling makes some kind of sense...but he has a lap full of books.
So all Georg gets for now is the sense of longing, a want for closeness that is (at least mostly) sweet, innocent.
"...It's...hard to get used to, thinking of myself that way."