[ Whatever happened between the two of them, whatever they spoke of, felt in this moment together; none of it would be regret, in the end. Lilia wasn't the type to regret any time spent with other people. The memories he could create, the impact he could have on their lives, if he just tried. To learn and teach, that was something he'd devoted hundreds of years to, after all.
His hands are easy to remove from his face. Lilia allows Floyd to do whatever he wishes with his hands. Whether that be setting them down, pushing them away. He's happy to see Floyd hold them, to press his thumb against his palms - it's comfortable.
To Lilia, it was hard to forget that some of these boys were just that: boys. They still had so much to learn, to experience. To understand about the world and about themselves. Maybe that's why it's so easy to assert his own words, to tell them how he feels, what he believes. To insist on certain facts, to insist his words were true at every turn.
Even he was still a boy, in many senses. His experiences, his feelings-- the way he had never truly spoken with anyone about his past, even his own boys...
Ah, life was so complicated.
It's with a slight smile that Lilia replies to that soft question.]
Yes, we can.
[ Leaning in to close the gap between them, Lilia carefully presses their lips together, in the very same way he did during their first kiss. It's a gentle affection, sweet, tender. Care, attention to the other man. In one simple kiss, it's all too clear how Lilia felt - that his feelings, his words, were more than genuine.
All he wanted, really, was to experience Floyd, to experience whoever he wanted to be, in this time. One of Lilia's hands shifts, turning, to carefully press their palms together. His gloved fingers slip between Floyd's fingers, linking their hands together to allow him to gently hold that one hand. His other stays put, allowing Floyd to continue poking and prodding as he wishes.]
no subject
His hands are easy to remove from his face. Lilia allows Floyd to do whatever he wishes with his hands. Whether that be setting them down, pushing them away. He's happy to see Floyd hold them, to press his thumb against his palms - it's comfortable.
To Lilia, it was hard to forget that some of these boys were just that: boys. They still had so much to learn, to experience. To understand about the world and about themselves. Maybe that's why it's so easy to assert his own words, to tell them how he feels, what he believes. To insist on certain facts, to insist his words were true at every turn.
Even he was still a boy, in many senses. His experiences, his feelings-- the way he had never truly spoken with anyone about his past, even his own boys...
Ah, life was so complicated.
It's with a slight smile that Lilia replies to that soft question.]
Yes, we can.
[ Leaning in to close the gap between them, Lilia carefully presses their lips together, in the very same way he did during their first kiss. It's a gentle affection, sweet, tender. Care, attention to the other man. In one simple kiss, it's all too clear how Lilia felt - that his feelings, his words, were more than genuine.
All he wanted, really, was to experience Floyd, to experience whoever he wanted to be, in this time. One of Lilia's hands shifts, turning, to carefully press their palms together. His gloved fingers slip between Floyd's fingers, linking their hands together to allow him to gently hold that one hand. His other stays put, allowing Floyd to continue poking and prodding as he wishes.]