They aren't enough, not alone, when Mister LaRusso reciprocates them. Robby wants to follow them up, recreate the last time he said as much to Mister LaRusso but in reverse; find somewhere close he can reach and leave the man a kiss and know--even in this heat-fuelled state--that he'll never get his true meaning. But he can be greedy, he can show the affection he wants to offer; and it seems so easy, so simple in this moment, to do without shame.
Isn't this what he's wanted to give Mister LaRusso? Comfort, companionship. Robby could make him feel comforted, because what else can he offer him in this haze?
But Robby doesn't get the chance to. Mister LaRusso acts first, though Robby had started the effort of raising his weight by his arm trapped against the bed; but he's pulled closer to the body next to him, and now Robby can't see a face at all. A cold wafts against his nose and cheeks, and Robby lets his free hand rest down on the line of Mister LaRusso's shoulder, keeping there.
If this was that any other day, he might feel offended to have his opportunity lost. Instead, Robby's disgruntlement lasts for a few seconds at most before he buries his forehead against that inner shoulder, the cool touch, and tries to lock himself in closer by hooking his arm and hand around Mister LaRusso's back. Except it's not very comfortable, a strain his limbs don't approve of, and Robby has to relax.
But this is fine too, Robby reasons; as long as he repeats in his head like a prayer for Mister LaRusso to not fall asleep, then nothing bad can happen. That's how this goes.
Someone has to believe in miracles, of wishes coming true, and he will. ]
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They aren't enough, not alone, when Mister LaRusso reciprocates them. Robby wants to follow them up, recreate the last time he said as much to Mister LaRusso but in reverse; find somewhere close he can reach and leave the man a kiss and know--even in this heat-fuelled state--that he'll never get his true meaning. But he can be greedy, he can show the affection he wants to offer; and it seems so easy, so simple in this moment, to do without shame.
Isn't this what he's wanted to give Mister LaRusso? Comfort, companionship. Robby could make him feel comforted, because what else can he offer him in this haze?
But Robby doesn't get the chance to. Mister LaRusso acts first, though Robby had started the effort of raising his weight by his arm trapped against the bed; but he's pulled closer to the body next to him, and now Robby can't see a face at all. A cold wafts against his nose and cheeks, and Robby lets his free hand rest down on the line of Mister LaRusso's shoulder, keeping there.
If this was that any other day, he might feel offended to have his opportunity lost. Instead, Robby's disgruntlement lasts for a few seconds at most before he buries his forehead against that inner shoulder, the cool touch, and tries to lock himself in closer by hooking his arm and hand around Mister LaRusso's back. Except it's not very comfortable, a strain his limbs don't approve of, and Robby has to relax.
But this is fine too, Robby reasons; as long as he repeats in his head like a prayer for Mister LaRusso to not fall asleep, then nothing bad can happen. That's how this goes.
Someone has to believe in miracles, of wishes coming true, and he will. ]