[ he doesn't expect that. at all, and it shows, the placid mask falling away and replaced with the raw confusing, the hurt that had been in his eyes before returning as they widen, brows raising anxiously. quentin takes his hand so carefully, presses his lips with such assurance. his heart thuds, terrified that this moment is wholly imagined or something that will become meaningless again all too soon.
but quentin speaks and. oh, he could cry. he can't think of a time that anyone's ever said anything of the sort before, so willingly setting aside themselves entirely just for eliot, and it feels so unreal. it's impossible. but quentin just. did?
tears drip from his eyes before he has time to react, and his free hand flies up to cover his mouth. he doesn't know what to say. ]
no subject
but quentin speaks and. oh, he could cry. he can't think of a time that anyone's ever said anything of the sort before, so willingly setting aside themselves entirely just for eliot, and it feels so unreal. it's impossible. but quentin just. did?
tears drip from his eyes before he has time to react, and his free hand flies up to cover his mouth. he doesn't know what to say. ]