[ the entire concept of intoxication is foreign to him, as a person who is inexplicably unable to get drunk and has never had any interest in (or money for) anything else that might have altered his consciousness in some way. even so, he can still say in full confidence that none of that could possibly be better than this.
he tilts his head to the side when he feels Erwin's mouth on his neck, a quiet sigh escaping his lips as he closes his eyes. if he didn't trust Erwin so completely, he'd be freezing up about now; there's a certain kind of lasting trauma that comes from being born and raised in a brothel which was itself in a slum, to a mother who worked there to provide for both of you and was rewarded with a sickness given to her by a client that eventually killed her. most of it manifests as compulsive cleaning, but it's no coincidence that he's never sought out anything like this, either. it was a number of years before he even came to realize it's not typically just a transaction, and even then he never found himself interested in anyone in that way. in truth, he didn't expect that he'd ever trust anyone the immense amount it would take to move past those painful memories, let alone love them enough to want to try.
then he met Erwin. then he tried to kill Erwin, and then he tried to kill him again. then he decided to trust Erwin, realized far too late that he was in love with him, and then Erwin died. the end?
nope.
he breathes an I love you in response in between kissing him and kissing him again, lifting a hand to touch the top button of Erwin's shirt. for a moment he just kind of hovers there, almost like he's not sure if he's really allowed to do this, but then he finally brings himself to unbutton one, bringing his other hand up to speed up the process in hopes the trembling will be a little less obvious. ]
no subject
he tilts his head to the side when he feels Erwin's mouth on his neck, a quiet sigh escaping his lips as he closes his eyes. if he didn't trust Erwin so completely, he'd be freezing up about now; there's a certain kind of lasting trauma that comes from being born and raised in a brothel which was itself in a slum, to a mother who worked there to provide for both of you and was rewarded with a sickness given to her by a client that eventually killed her. most of it manifests as compulsive cleaning, but it's no coincidence that he's never sought out anything like this, either. it was a number of years before he even came to realize it's not typically just a transaction, and even then he never found himself interested in anyone in that way. in truth, he didn't expect that he'd ever trust anyone the immense amount it would take to move past those painful memories, let alone love them enough to want to try.
then he met Erwin. then he tried to kill Erwin, and then he tried to kill him again. then he decided to trust Erwin, realized far too late that he was in love with him, and then Erwin died. the end?
nope.
he breathes an I love you in response in between kissing him and kissing him again, lifting a hand to touch the top button of Erwin's shirt. for a moment he just kind of hovers there, almost like he's not sure if he's really allowed to do this, but then he finally brings himself to unbutton one, bringing his other hand up to speed up the process in hopes the trembling will be a little less obvious. ]