Again, he spoke without thinking, Cian flinching internally at the way that Connie curled over himself like that. He thought about running a hand over his bare back, to try again to soothe him, but it wouldn't be like before, he knew that. There wasn't much else to do about it. Not now. A part of him wondered, deep down, why it was he had shown him those things, the feelings, but he wasn't going to question it. Here they were, as they say. It was in the open.
No matter who had chosen that night, or in the nights leading after, one of them would have been hurt. "Would it be better if I left?" The room, the house. Whatever he wanted.