Solin would never begrudge Herbert his tears... he says nothing of them, makes nothing of those sobs, because of course. Of course this must be terrible for him; eternity stretching ahead of his lover while the young shepherd has...so little time left.

"Thank you," he rasps, glad to be enveloped in Herbert's arms. Another fit takes him, the cloth held to his mouth seeping from white to red quickly, too quickly.

The pain, at least, is starting to yield to a strange stillness. It doesn't stem the heartache, but it does give him back the ability to smile, sweet and sad.

"...If I could mend the fabric of fate," he wheezes, staring up into his lover's face, "I would join every thread that would give us more time, Herbert. I - I love you with everything in me, and that will never, never change."