[ Gold settles into what has become a more familiar place across from him. That last bit probably catches him more by surprise than expected. It gets lumped into all the other conclusions his mind is drawing, and lumping it in with all that feels like a step too far. But there is a possibility there that takes the wind out of him for an instant.
And he is realizing that even if he is reading this all wrong, they are both going to be in this strange limbo where all that can be done is worry and speak half-truths, if they're in same or even similar boats. ]
I...don't want to ruin the setting by being the way I have been the last couple months. Or saying the wrong thing -- and I am very good at saying the wrong thing on my way toward figuring out what would have been correct. But it is becoming clear that something should be said.
[ Even if it ruins tea. And hopefully not what is at the very least a friendship but adds up to so much more he is having trouble defining.
A calming breath. ]
I found I admired you very quickly -- and making friends has never been easy for me. It's never been effortless to feel that way about someone who wasn't -- [ Well, his son. It's understood; he leaves it. ] It is strange to say that I do have friends here, and I am realizing that. Or at the very least many social connections that do not feel like business or obligation. They do not feel like this. [ And there is that feeling of a precipice again, of being in a pocket of airlessness. ] You were special and immediately so.
You were also in a relationship, and it felt respectful to keep my distance, and I mostly succeeded. I admit not to meddling -- but I felt compelled to speak to him, in your defense, once. Long enough to know I needed to stay out of it.
...I left a relationship behind, myself, back in my world. [ That feels crucial to say. He feels like he would be lying to himself if he didn't acknowledge it, and it would be dishonest not to explain. ] They are not here, and I would not wish this place on them. But Neal was never the only person I was hiking up to that garden to wait for. There's someone here, who is them, but isn't. They don't know me as anything but the old man who makes clothes in the shop and occasionally needs books. And every time they smile at me, it hurts so much, I want to die.
[ He's keeping it vague because he doesn't want to drag her into this; she has no idea anything is even wrong and doesn't need to. ]
After centuries of living, other than my son, this was my only -- anything. Friend? True love? But what that does to a person is they suddenly think any feeling toward another, no matter how innocent, must in turn be romantic. And it has taken being here for as long as I have to begin to see the differences.
The truth is that I feel something for you that is more than friendship, perhaps so many things at once that I have trouble defining it. That in itself is strange -- I adore words; seems unthinkable I should have trouble finding the right ones.
[ His hands come together atop the table, for a time his gaze fixed on them, like he's confessing to a crime, but at last he makes eye contact. ]
But I also adore you, Prince Stolas. I do not know what that means, or what form it will take going forward, if at all. We both have our wishes and homes that someday we will be returning to, stories there that will be told.
But here, I met you. And here, I want to see you happy.
Action
And he is realizing that even if he is reading this all wrong, they are both going to be in this strange limbo where all that can be done is worry and speak half-truths, if they're in same or even similar boats. ]
I...don't want to ruin the setting by being the way I have been the last couple months. Or saying the wrong thing -- and I am very good at saying the wrong thing on my way toward figuring out what would have been correct. But it is becoming clear that something should be said.
[ Even if it ruins tea. And hopefully not what is at the very least a friendship but adds up to so much more he is having trouble defining.
A calming breath. ]
I found I admired you very quickly -- and making friends has never been easy for me. It's never been effortless to feel that way about someone who wasn't -- [ Well, his son. It's understood; he leaves it. ] It is strange to say that I do have friends here, and I am realizing that. Or at the very least many social connections that do not feel like business or obligation. They do not feel like this. [ And there is that feeling of a precipice again, of being in a pocket of airlessness. ] You were special and immediately so.
You were also in a relationship, and it felt respectful to keep my distance, and I mostly succeeded. I admit not to meddling -- but I felt compelled to speak to him, in your defense, once. Long enough to know I needed to stay out of it.
...I left a relationship behind, myself, back in my world. [ That feels crucial to say. He feels like he would be lying to himself if he didn't acknowledge it, and it would be dishonest not to explain. ] They are not here, and I would not wish this place on them. But Neal was never the only person I was hiking up to that garden to wait for. There's someone here, who is them, but isn't. They don't know me as anything but the old man who makes clothes in the shop and occasionally needs books. And every time they smile at me, it hurts so much, I want to die.
[ He's keeping it vague because he doesn't want to drag her into this; she has no idea anything is even wrong and doesn't need to. ]
After centuries of living, other than my son, this was my only -- anything. Friend? True love? But what that does to a person is they suddenly think any feeling toward another, no matter how innocent, must in turn be romantic. And it has taken being here for as long as I have to begin to see the differences.
The truth is that I feel something for you that is more than friendship, perhaps so many things at once that I have trouble defining it. That in itself is strange -- I adore words; seems unthinkable I should have trouble finding the right ones.
[ His hands come together atop the table, for a time his gaze fixed on them, like he's confessing to a crime, but at last he makes eye contact. ]
But I also adore you, Prince Stolas. I do not know what that means, or what form it will take going forward, if at all. We both have our wishes and homes that someday we will be returning to, stories there that will be told.
But here, I met you. And here, I want to see you happy.