Rory took off his coat, hat, scarf and gloves, enjoying the warmth of Eisen's apartment after the bitter Maine cold. But the sound of Eisen's voice almost made him warmer, although it also caused an accompanying pang in his stomach. God. He hadn't been this fluttery over Eisen's every movement in... over a year. He still loved him, of course. He'd loved him for a long time. But over the agonizing months and years that he'd kept his feelings hidden, Rory had learned to suppress those flutterings, those urges, at least for the most part. But now, in his vulnerable and confused state, he might as well have been eighteen again.
After his outer gear was safely stowed, Rory rolled obediently over to the couch and looked up at it wearily. His chair was cold from his journey through the snow, but his arms, sore from having to wrestle through so many snow drifts, protested the idea of swinging up onto the couch like he normally did. It took Rory about ten seconds to decide what to do. Grasping the arm of the couch, Rory managed to get up, wincing as his stiff, weak muscles protested movement of the extra weight. He wasn't up for very long, of course; it only took a few seconds to position himself over his usual spot on the couch so he could fall back onto it.
Some other day, Rory might have asked Eisen for help with this process. Given his frame of mind, maybe that would've made sense. But today, when Rory was at his weakest emotionally, it was important for him to at least give the illusion of physical competency. He would never be strong. He knew that. But for now, for the few seconds it took him to get onto the couch all by himself, at least he could tell himself that he still retained some autonomy.
When he was settled, Rory looked up and searched for Eisen's eyes. It was a rare day when Rory didn't really know what to say, but for this entire week, words had failed him over and over. He'd defended himself so much that he honestly didn't know what else he could say, especially since his defenses seemed so very thin in the face of everything he'd done. Never had words seemed this frail to Rory. Never had he felt so powerless to defend himself against them. And now, as Eisen pulled him into a hug, all Rory could do was cling to his best friend, his breath short and shallow and murmur, "Eisen... thank you." It wasn't much. No. It really wasn't much at all. But the tone of Rory's voice made it clear that his gratitude came from the deepest corner of his heart.