[ Not like it's the first time Felix has laid hands on him. They've gone at each other to kill more than once and it's turned each and every time. Like clockwork, like the hand of fucking fate brought down personally to fuck with them. Ephemera hisses, jerking at the feel of Felix's hand in his hair. Hating that he wants it, that he presses closer even as he keeps his free hand braced against the wall. Orienting himself, partially. But also because this way he can use his height to shield Felix like that's something sane to do, like that's something he has any business thinking.
He grits his teeth. He wonders if Felix will go for the knife. He wonders if that matters. And then he just leans forward and presses their foreheads together, breath coming out in a sharp hiss. People keep touching him. It hurts like being burned. He doesn't remember the tower, not really, but that wasn't the first time. Nothing at first and then that flash of blinding hurt. Only it's worse, because there's a part of him that wants it too. That wants to step forward and drag it out. Put his hand on Felix's hip and just -
Fuck. ]
Probably.
[ It out rough. He doesn't want to. But what he wants is insane. And so is the way he reverses his grip and presses the hilt of the blade into Felix's hand. ]
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He grits his teeth. He wonders if Felix will go for the knife. He wonders if that matters. And then he just leans forward and presses their foreheads together, breath coming out in a sharp hiss. People keep touching him. It hurts like being burned. He doesn't remember the tower, not really, but that wasn't the first time. Nothing at first and then that flash of blinding hurt. Only it's worse, because there's a part of him that wants it too. That wants to step forward and drag it out. Put his hand on Felix's hip and just -
Fuck. ]
Probably.
[ It out rough. He doesn't want to. But what he wants is insane. And so is the way he reverses his grip and presses the hilt of the blade into Felix's hand. ]