Gellert knew what Albus must have seen when his gaze dropped, but he kept his own eyes held on a steady plane, his expression cool and immutable, as if he himself had scarcely noticed a thing. And when Albus mentioned the luggage, so much seemed to fall neatly into place. It was because of Gellert's own baggage that he'd found so many of his senses distracted by one singular goal.
It was because of that luggage, after all, that he was so close to allowing himself to step past the boundary he'd already drawn in his mind for what was acceptable, at this point in their re-acquaintance. So Gellert took a step back, and then another. "I apologise," he said, gaze sliding away from Albus's. "I did not mean to impose."
There was no doubt in Gellert's mind as to the parameters of Albus's request for distance. He did not wish Gellert to leave entirely, it was simply a matter of personal space and being unable to too quickly have Gellert invade it again. Something lurched in Gellert's stomach, wanting to say that he didn't care, that he ought to cross that room once more and press their lips together and thrust a hand beneath the waistband of Albus's trousers, and for several seconds it was a struggle to keep himself moving away.
It was not until he was back in his hammock once more that he truly felt any release from that draw. Gellert grabbed the book that he had discarded in the belly of the hammock and stretched himself out in its cradle, turning to the appropriate page and beginning to read. But his mind was spinning out in too many directions at once, and it was impossible to concentrate. He needed some way to drag all his attention to a singular focal point. Every-Flavour Beans were generally a safe gamble; many were too disgusting to gorge oneself on them, but nevertheless they were almost pure sugar. That sugar would break down into fructose and glucose, the latter of which would be absorbed into his bloodstream and cause his blood glucose level to spike, giving him that half hour or so of steadiness that he needed.
He pulled a bag out of his pocket and tossed a green bean into his mouth. Lettuce. A little distasteful, but not horribly so. Gellert glanced back up at Albus, holding the small violet bag aloft. "Every-Flavour Bean?" he offered.