He shrinks a little at Rhy's directness. A slow breath in, eyes drifting upward over both their heads.
"I was thinking...it's always so crowded there. It could be nice to find somewhere quieter." Clearing his throat. "More private."
He senses a distance in Rhy, who in his experience has almost always radiated warmth. Now he's more like the stars in the night sky, cloistered in unknowable darkness. After Rhy has soothed his aches and anxieties so many times, with a word of reassurance or a sturdy shoulder to lean on, Wilhelm feels compelled to try to do the same for him.
Of course, not all of his motives are so beatific.
He's only been humoring you, you know, whispers the air around him. By now, Wilhelm knows better than to look around for who the voice belongs to. It's his own insecurities, crawling out of his skull, as hard to kill as cockroaches. He's never going to see you as more than an annoying kid he's too nice to turn away.
As nasty as the taunting is, it's worse when the voices multiply and start gossiping with each other. The susurration of whispers invokes the feeling of walking into a room and knowing that everybody's been talking about you, everybody's watching you. No matter how often it's happened to him, Wilhelm has never been able to build any defense against it. His heart drops into his stomach. Self-consciousness prickles under his skin.
It's honestly pathetic. He just latched onto the first pretty boy who threw him a bit of kindness.
Did you see him at the Roadhouse? He was all over Rhy, following him around like a stray puppy all night.
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"I was thinking...it's always so crowded there. It could be nice to find somewhere quieter." Clearing his throat. "More private."
He senses a distance in Rhy, who in his experience has almost always radiated warmth. Now he's more like the stars in the night sky, cloistered in unknowable darkness. After Rhy has soothed his aches and anxieties so many times, with a word of reassurance or a sturdy shoulder to lean on, Wilhelm feels compelled to try to do the same for him.
Of course, not all of his motives are so beatific.
He's only been humoring you, you know, whispers the air around him. By now, Wilhelm knows better than to look around for who the voice belongs to. It's his own insecurities, crawling out of his skull, as hard to kill as cockroaches. He's never going to see you as more than an annoying kid he's too nice to turn away.
As nasty as the taunting is, it's worse when the voices multiply and start gossiping with each other. The susurration of whispers invokes the feeling of walking into a room and knowing that everybody's been talking about you, everybody's watching you. No matter how often it's happened to him, Wilhelm has never been able to build any defense against it. His heart drops into his stomach. Self-consciousness prickles under his skin.
It's honestly pathetic. He just latched onto the first pretty boy who threw him a bit of kindness.
Did you see him at the Roadhouse? He was all over Rhy, following him around like a stray puppy all night.