[Breathing room. That's what Dorian gets as Larus shuts the door and shuts him out. But right now, he's grateful for the space he's been afforded as his thoughts and emotions are are spinning, tumbling chaotically throughout him. Dorian inhales, lets the breath shakily out, and then after a moment, slowly brushes at his shirt to smooth away the wrinkles from those places where physical contact had left him disheveled. A hand through his hair restores normality there, soothes at the tumult inside, and he feels a little more like himself as his appearance settles back to what it always is.
It's a lie, though. And nothing compared to the aching tug in his chest. The feeling of having his innards laid bare. It's the feeling of a hand inside his chest, fingers wrapped around his heart.
Those fingers are probably cold, he thinks, with a touch of irony.
There's no choice in any of this, of course. There never is. The moment he spoke any of his feelings aloud, told Larus that he'd remember him, his fate was sealed. There is an odd sort of settling feeling in the notion, now that he's alone. His feelings simply are, and the only option left is to do is chase them as far as they'll go. To follow the arrow's trajectory recklessly, blindly, and see where it lands.
But it's a path for him to strike later, as Dorian grabs for his dark greatcoat and swings it over his shoulders.
He leaves a stark silence behind him as he makes his way out the door of the suite.]
no subject
It's a lie, though. And nothing compared to the aching tug in his chest. The feeling of having his innards laid bare. It's the feeling of a hand inside his chest, fingers wrapped around his heart.
Those fingers are probably cold, he thinks, with a touch of irony.
There's no choice in any of this, of course. There never is. The moment he spoke any of his feelings aloud, told Larus that he'd remember him, his fate was sealed. There is an odd sort of settling feeling in the notion, now that he's alone. His feelings simply are, and the only option left is to do is chase them as far as they'll go. To follow the arrow's trajectory recklessly, blindly, and see where it lands.
But it's a path for him to strike later, as Dorian grabs for his dark greatcoat and swings it over his shoulders.
He leaves a stark silence behind him as he makes his way out the door of the suite.]