[There are things Paul is never and always thinking about, one way or another. There are things that are so deeply felt and known they have stopped being thoughts at all.
Paul sees Falco make himself be brave, tremulous and yet fierce, a little bird readying little talons and beak, and it's like watching the world end all over again.]
Falco. [Paul's voice is an ache, it's an aegis of protection, it's please.] Falco, you don't have to do -
[But Paul remembers being his age. It feels a long time ago, but he remembers. So he stops himself. He rises from his chair, barely disentangling himself from Falco's hand only to kneel on one knee in front of him and guide both of Falco's small hands to his gift, clasps his larger hands around them. He looks up at that impossibly sad face, the unbearable losses etched in it - childhood, innocence, a little dark eyed girl not here, a brother whose name Paul has been afraid to ask for.
Paul makes himself be brave. His eyes are solemn and gentle. He wills his hands to be warm, and they obey.]
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Paul sees Falco make himself be brave, tremulous and yet fierce, a little bird readying little talons and beak, and it's like watching the world end all over again.]
Falco. [Paul's voice is an ache, it's an aegis of protection, it's please.] Falco, you don't have to do -
[But Paul remembers being his age. It feels a long time ago, but he remembers. So he stops himself. He rises from his chair, barely disentangling himself from Falco's hand only to kneel on one knee in front of him and guide both of Falco's small hands to his gift, clasps his larger hands around them. He looks up at that impossibly sad face, the unbearable losses etched in it - childhood, innocence, a little dark eyed girl not here, a brother whose name Paul has been afraid to ask for.
Paul makes himself be brave. His eyes are solemn and gentle. He wills his hands to be warm, and they obey.]
You're still good at stitches, aren't you?