There is no ill or wrong in using a crutch when your leg is broken. In using a friend when your spirit has been battered and bruised for so very long. Hythlodaeus would encourage it but - it is better to just offer himself. To be here.

Because here is home. He had thought to seek Hades out in the Aethereal Sea, but instead they found each other here, and that is... beyond good. Even if, after all this time, even he can feel the ache - his own, as well as the reflection of Hades's, so much vaster.

He won't let go. He won't, no matter what choices may seem to be taken away from them.

Hythlodaeus tilts his head to nuzzle lightly into Hades's hair, then a little more to press his lips to the hairline at his temple.

Then he murmurs, soft enough for the ears of the man in his arms alone, the words only a little above a thrum in his chest, in his throat.

"My dearest, dearest Hades. You have been hurting so. But I have you now. I have you."

It has been so empty and lonely without you, he doesn't need to say, for he knows Hades has felt it also, and worse. He can see.

After a long moment, he spies somewhere that he thinks may be convenient to sit, and without dislodging them in any way, he guides them the few steps until they reach it. "Come on, sit with me."

Just so Hades will not have to be an ilm further than he is. Not even to look up.