Dokja goes down easily, happy to stay where he is as long as Eustace is right beside him. He basks in the warmth radiating off of Eustace, different from the warmth that comes from Springstar's suns. Here, at least, this warm comfort is only for him, and there's a selfish pleasure that he takes from that knowledge. So often has he gone without, and now with so much fulfilled, it's both soothing and painfully anxiety-inducing.
He'll have to do whatever he can to keep this.
And then his thoughts are broken into when the easy admission slips past Eustace's lips, and Dokja is left frozen where is, instinctively tensing as if expecting a denial to follow. When it doesn't, when all he's left with are gentle words meant to reassure him, Dokja is at a loss for words.
But it isn't panic. It's surprise. It's the twist in his gut, the pounding of his heart, the way he has to bite down on his tongue from trying to make a joke in an effort to avoid the candidness of this moment. It's the way he has to fight back a stupid smile at hearing such simple words that have probably been spoken to others hundreds of times, but never to him, and the way that he doesn't feel the urge to run for once in his life. In the end, he hides his face against Eustace's shoulder, tension slowly fading as Dokja forces himself to relax.
Just a second later, he finally responds. ]
Me too, [ he says quietly, voice muffled. ] I like you... a lot.
[ More than he'll ever know or understand how to properly convey. ]
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Dokja goes down easily, happy to stay where he is as long as Eustace is right beside him. He basks in the warmth radiating off of Eustace, different from the warmth that comes from Springstar's suns. Here, at least, this warm comfort is only for him, and there's a selfish pleasure that he takes from that knowledge. So often has he gone without, and now with so much fulfilled, it's both soothing and painfully anxiety-inducing.
He'll have to do whatever he can to keep this.
And then his thoughts are broken into when the easy admission slips past Eustace's lips, and Dokja is left frozen where is, instinctively tensing as if expecting a denial to follow. When it doesn't, when all he's left with are gentle words meant to reassure him, Dokja is at a loss for words.
But it isn't panic. It's surprise. It's the twist in his gut, the pounding of his heart, the way he has to bite down on his tongue from trying to make a joke in an effort to avoid the candidness of this moment. It's the way he has to fight back a stupid smile at hearing such simple words that have probably been spoken to others hundreds of times, but never to him, and the way that he doesn't feel the urge to run for once in his life. In the end, he hides his face against Eustace's shoulder, tension slowly fading as Dokja forces himself to relax.
Just a second later, he finally responds. ]
Me too, [ he says quietly, voice muffled. ] I like you... a lot.
[ More than he'll ever know or understand how to properly convey. ]