Oh. Daia's tears sting somewhere between Esteban's ribs, string his heart tight and clutter up in his throat. He still doesn't want to say goodbye. There is so much warmth and happiness in him to have met Daia; to have had a chance to get to know him. He's been lucky, to have ended up on this train. To have ended up here.
No matter the goodbyes-- and they hurt, they hurt! These losses he can't control, these precious hoards falling out of his hands. But they are precious to him. He is lucky to have met them. Each and every single one of them. He's lucky to have had the chance to meet them.
Tears gather at the corner of his eyes, and Esteban lets them fall, trickle down the same way Daia's do. But the joy and warmth still pour from him, rain and sunshine both, too much to contain under one emotion, and he smiles, smiles as wide as he can, as merrily as he can, even as he raises both hands to brush lightly against Daia's cheeks.
The back of tanned fingers gently soothe the tracks away, incredibly warm against the bite of the cold drizzle that falls from the crying sky. Touch lingers, remains as Esteban nods, his voice caught and squeezing past the lead in his throat, but he stays steady as he agrees.
"Yeah! I'm countin' on you." Hoarse, but sunny, but happy, but glad. His warm palm comes to Daia's jaw, holds him still very gently as his other hand rises, brushes silver bangs aside, lets the gentle rain fall into delicate pinpricks, before Esteban replaces the cold with the the delicate heat of his lips.
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No matter the goodbyes-- and they hurt, they hurt! These losses he can't control, these precious hoards falling out of his hands. But they are precious to him. He is lucky to have met them. Each and every single one of them. He's lucky to have had the chance to meet them.
Tears gather at the corner of his eyes, and Esteban lets them fall, trickle down the same way Daia's do. But the joy and warmth still pour from him, rain and sunshine both, too much to contain under one emotion, and he smiles, smiles as wide as he can, as merrily as he can, even as he raises both hands to brush lightly against Daia's cheeks.
The back of tanned fingers gently soothe the tracks away, incredibly warm against the bite of the cold drizzle that falls from the crying sky. Touch lingers, remains as Esteban nods, his voice caught and squeezing past the lead in his throat, but he stays steady as he agrees.
"Yeah! I'm countin' on you." Hoarse, but sunny, but happy, but glad. His warm palm comes to Daia's jaw, holds him still very gently as his other hand rises, brushes silver bangs aside, lets the gentle rain fall into delicate pinpricks, before Esteban replaces the cold with the the delicate heat of his lips.