[ That thing flares in Flynn all over again. He can't move—Yuri is leaning on him like he never does, heavy-headed and exhausted—but he clutches tighter to Yuri all the same, something like anger simmering in his belly.
He shouldn't engage. He knows that. Yuri is exhausted and talking more than he ever does, and Flynn knows very well what ridiculous things he'd said when he was shaky-limbed from his own rebirth, chased by memories of dying. He'd been full of fear and guilt and shame all at once that Yuri had to support him like that, and he can only imagine Yuri is feeling some combination of the same thing under the leaden wall of exhaustion pressing him down.
With a rough sound, Flynn tugs at Yuri, pulling him back along the bed to make him lie down. ]
no subject
He shouldn't engage. He knows that. Yuri is exhausted and talking more than he ever does, and Flynn knows very well what ridiculous things he'd said when he was shaky-limbed from his own rebirth, chased by memories of dying. He'd been full of fear and guilt and shame all at once that Yuri had to support him like that, and he can only imagine Yuri is feeling some combination of the same thing under the leaden wall of exhaustion pressing him down.
With a rough sound, Flynn tugs at Yuri, pulling him back along the bed to make him lie down. ]
What would you have me do instead? Abandon you?