Re: Fuliginous| 11-1-2020 | Morning
"Ye'll still make fun of me, but get yer jollies in for the year," Kiernan allowed. Fuck, his family were pricks. Which was probably the root of the problem at hand...
"I know," Grasp answered finally, his hand still on Ronan's shoulder, having moved forward when he lurched. It was done. But for Mars the terror and guilt had just begun. It was a dandy to see your PTSD-laden siblings strung out with new trauma. Every eldest sibling's dream.
Kiernan was still regulating his breathing for both their benefits while he battled away the sinister and sarcastic guilt he was also staring down the barrel at. His hand moved to Ronan's neck, then the back of his head and Grasp moved to stand next to Ronan's chair instead of behind it. He bent and kissed his brother's hair, then eased into a crouch but didn't remove his hand.
"Life does a fine job at that; rippin' people apart. I needn't have wasted the energy." His thumb rubbed the shorter shaven hair on the side of Mars' head while he took in the sight of him. There wasn't a chance he was letting go of Ronan - and not to keep a mental leash on. Rather, he knew how valuable being touched felt when you felt the most unlovable. As he moved to kneel, the elder Murphy sighed a bit before speaking again. "I'll sit here as long as ya want. As long as we need to." Facing people, or even walking to a car, probably seemed like mounting Everest to Ronan just then. Hell, it felt like that to Kiernan, too. Using his mutation at that level, for that long, and with that much emotional investment had been a gut punch, he was slowly realizing.