Crying is good, like draining an infection from a wound.
Paul once said that to him about tears and Kaworu debates telling it to him now. Then he realizes, if Paul told it to him then he must know and it would do nothing to ease his pain now. Perhaps later, if it seems like he needs a reminder.
Tears, sharp like knives, form at the edges of his own red eyes, and for a moment he's overwhelmed by confusion, in the face his lack of understanding of what causes Paul to suffer. He reaches up with his free hand to wipe them away and then takes a moment to examine the wet sensation on his fingers, marveling at how it's almost delicate in the soft light.
Ah. A moment of clarity. Tears allow others to share in your sorrow. Even if you can't cry like someone else, you can cry for them, or with them. With his free hand, he reaches up and buries it in soft curls and gently pulls Paul towards him, pressing their heads together, moving his hand slowly down the taller boy's spine, feeling every vertebrae until his arm is around thin shoulders.
With his shorter stature, Kaworu can't embrace Paul like Paul once did for him, crouched over his crumpled form, as if misery were shadowed attacker one could be protected from. All he can do is hold him in place with all his strength and try to ward off the dark things that want to swallow him. Not protecting but standing guard.
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Paul once said that to him about tears and Kaworu debates telling it to him now. Then he realizes, if Paul told it to him then he must know and it would do nothing to ease his pain now. Perhaps later, if it seems like he needs a reminder.
Tears, sharp like knives, form at the edges of his own red eyes, and for a moment he's overwhelmed by confusion, in the face his lack of understanding of what causes Paul to suffer. He reaches up with his free hand to wipe them away and then takes a moment to examine the wet sensation on his fingers, marveling at how it's almost delicate in the soft light.
Ah. A moment of clarity. Tears allow others to share in your sorrow. Even if you can't cry like someone else, you can cry for them, or with them. With his free hand, he reaches up and buries it in soft curls and gently pulls Paul towards him, pressing their heads together, moving his hand slowly down the taller boy's spine, feeling every vertebrae until his arm is around thin shoulders.
With his shorter stature, Kaworu can't embrace Paul like Paul once did for him, crouched over his crumpled form, as if misery were shadowed attacker one could be protected from. All he can do is hold him in place with all his strength and try to ward off the dark things that want to swallow him. Not protecting but standing guard.