( There's no unawkward way to keep hovering like this, but Vash has committed to it now and so he rests on his heels and lets his hand start moving again, small, soothing little circles against Wolfwood's spine that he learnt a hundred years ago would bring him comfort. He can't exactly be eyes like this either, facing away from the door, and while every single survival instinct is raging at him, instead all he does is hook his chin over the other man's shoulder, his other hand coming up to run soothingly through his hair.
It's all instinct, all old memories. Even as an unburdened thing on the ships Vash had nightmares, and Rem was always close at hand. He draws those painful instances closer now, fingers gentle. He only tips his head a little to listen to the world outside but all he can hear is Wolfwood's breathing, pitched too high.
But he stays quiet though, stays attentive, stays holding on. )
no subject
It's all instinct, all old memories. Even as an unburdened thing on the ships Vash had nightmares, and Rem was always close at hand. He draws those painful instances closer now, fingers gentle. He only tips his head a little to listen to the world outside but all he can hear is Wolfwood's breathing, pitched too high.
But he stays quiet though, stays attentive, stays holding on. )