[It's when Keith touches his own scars that he loses anything he was about to say, suddenly all his attention and focus on that small touch-- and his heart leaping up in his chest and then plummeting down into his stomach. He feels at once comforted and overly vulnerable in that moment. Maybe he'll always have complicated thoughts on his scars, but never on Keith-- trusts Keith and his words, even as what he says next threatens to overwhelm him entirely.]
[It isn't the first time someone's told him he's proud of him. But to hear it from his oldest friend, from the person he loves and trusts the most-- he never thought hearing something like that could leave him feeling so-- seen. Keith's right in that it's hard for him to see it that way, his own self-worth so tangled up, but it's always been a comfort to know how steadfastly Keith sees him-- that if someone as amazing and kind as Keith can see something worthwhile in him, then maybe he can be more than something broken. It's that view of himself, in a lot of ways, that prevents him from bridging that gap in his thinking-- that thought that, no matter what, Keith will only ever see him as a friend. This fierce loyalty, this reassurance-- this is how Keith has always been, from even early on in their friendship. And that's what it is-- a friendship, right?]
[Still, in this moment, it doesn't matter that his feelings for Keith will always be unrequited-- it's more than that, it's being understood by Keith, it's having his support. It's in moments like these that he knows how lucky he is to have this man in his life and to get to count himself as his best friend. More than anything else, it's reassuring, relieving-- that Keith can look at him and see someone stronger.]
[It takes him a while to speak, overwhelmed, content to simply hold Keith tight-- trusting him to understand that silence. When he does finally speak, it's after he lets out a soft, brittle laugh-- gentle, sad, but happy at once:]
Oh, Keith...
[What can be possibly say to that? He hopes his tone can convey it, at least, just how grateful he is for him. What did he ever do to deserve having you in his life?]
You're-- [...] wonderful.
[Inadequate. Painfully, painfully inadequate. But hey, you've managed to take away his ability to speak eloquently, it seems.]