[he feels the pressure from the bands loosen and he jerks upright with something akin to panic, leftover from being so helpless. With his good arm he rips the bands the rest of the way off and then proceeds to, with deadly calm and control, rip each one out of its slot. The metal edges cut into his good palm but it's worth it. For a minute - just a minute - he lets himself pretend he doesn't hear Aerith's suspicion.
Yeah. She wouldn't know about his illusionary world. She was - gone by the time it had all come crashing down...
Her worry about his arm though has him looking down at it himself. It's throbbing with the low thudding throb of severed muscle and exposed bone and he tries to be a man and look critically at it but it just makes him a little sick to his stomach and his eyes skid to the side, focusing on her now that she's free of that misfit coat. It helps. It helps more than anything and he focuses all his attention on her face while she bandages him. It calms the quiet panic that's been screaming in the back of his skull, mindless and animalistic, this entire time.
He feels the flickers of her healing moving through his arm but he's too concerned with what he hears in her too brittle voice and sees in the glints of her green eyes to notice how much it works and how much is left raw.
She hurting. And, for the first time, he understands exactly how she feels. So when she looks at him with all that pain and her beautiful heart in her eyes, his lips twitch upward at their very edges and he lifts his good hand to soothe a hand tenderly over her hair, brushing the side of her head and unintentionally leaving streaks of red from where the iron bands cut his palm. His throat feels a little raw with all the screaming he wouldn't do and so he whispers the words to keep them soft for her.]
It's okay, Aerith. I'm okay.
[he's awkward about touch, still even after everything, but he thinks she's been more traumatized than he has and his hand slips around to the back of her shoulder, nudging her closer to him and the way he's now sitting on the lab table with his legs over the side. He lowers his head, offering her the shelter of his body if she wants it - just for a minute. He knows she's strong - but he also knows how much simply having someone else to lean on for a few seconds can mean.]
me too! I never would have thought of this on my own
Yeah. She wouldn't know about his illusionary world. She was - gone by the time it had all come crashing down...
Her worry about his arm though has him looking down at it himself. It's throbbing with the low thudding throb of severed muscle and exposed bone and he tries to be a man and look critically at it but it just makes him a little sick to his stomach and his eyes skid to the side, focusing on her now that she's free of that misfit coat. It helps. It helps more than anything and he focuses all his attention on her face while she bandages him. It calms the quiet panic that's been screaming in the back of his skull, mindless and animalistic, this entire time.
She's here. She's safe. She's alive. She's... her.
He feels the flickers of her healing moving through his arm but he's too concerned with what he hears in her too brittle voice and sees in the glints of her green eyes to notice how much it works and how much is left raw.
She hurting. And, for the first time, he understands exactly how she feels. So when she looks at him with all that pain and her beautiful heart in her eyes, his lips twitch upward at their very edges and he lifts his good hand to soothe a hand tenderly over her hair, brushing the side of her head and unintentionally leaving streaks of red from where the iron bands cut his palm. His throat feels a little raw with all the screaming he wouldn't do and so he whispers the words to keep them soft for her.]
It's okay, Aerith. I'm okay.
[he's awkward about touch, still even after everything, but he thinks she's been more traumatized than he has and his hand slips around to the back of her shoulder, nudging her closer to him and the way he's now sitting on the lab table with his legs over the side. He lowers his head, offering her the shelter of his body if she wants it - just for a minute. He knows she's strong - but he also knows how much simply having someone else to lean on for a few seconds can mean.]
It's okay. We're okay.