[ To Dream there's not perception as to whether this is a joke or not a joke, and when he smiles at Ciro it's honest because why wouldn't he like that? Then again, it's more than possible - probable - his bias defines his opinions more strongly than the technical reality of some things whether they be voices or aught else. Dream likes the idea of Ciro singing to him because Dream likes Ciro; but perhaps it's neither here nor there as they move forward into the house again. He can still feel his friend's arms around him, and is keenly aware of how when he holds his own arms to himself they don't do anything remotely the same. Ciro was warm and Dream feels cold; Ciro won't meet his eyes and Dream vaguely guesses why without asking.
He doesn't mean to be selfish and hopes Ciro isn't to off-put by his own unusual show of emotion, not thinking for a second that the reason Ciro can't look directly at him is simply because he cares.
Dream has never gotten close enough to someone to tell the difference.
As Ciro removes his slippers, Dream watches, his weight shifting lightly as he doesn't approach the bed right away. When he does come closer, he pauses rather than sitting. He doesn't feel the need for borrowing of clothing but wonders if that would be the more polite thing to do - to accept - and when he tilts his head he does take one moment to wipe the back of his hand to both eyes. It comes away damp but is easily ignored as he sits beside Ciro, close enough their shoulders brush ever so slightly. ]
Part of me still feels I should go, but...
[ Trailing off, the empty space might speak for itself: but I don't want to, but I do not welcome that loneliness I've made false peace with. Not tonight. Dream leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped lightly, head bowed. Inside of Dream there isn't just a slow, inevitable failsafe running its course; there is also just the heart and memory of a boy first let into the world less than a decade ago. Though wet eyelashes are dark, no more tears struggle out, and Dream chuffs the softest, barest-there of laughs, almost not one at all.]
Are ... are you sure that it's alright?
[ His head cants to the side just a touch, not enough to look directly, and he lets his gaze slide forward again, away. Alright if he stays, alright if he doesn't know what he is or what is happening...'alright'. ...'alright' to want to do so. And again it blooms almost foreign in Dream's chest to the point that he raises one hand to his heart. It's a little too fast. Ah. He bows his head again, soft smile not wholly gone so far. ]
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He doesn't mean to be selfish and hopes Ciro isn't to off-put by his own unusual show of emotion, not thinking for a second that the reason Ciro can't look directly at him is simply because he cares.
Dream has never gotten close enough to someone to tell the difference.
As Ciro removes his slippers, Dream watches, his weight shifting lightly as he doesn't approach the bed right away. When he does come closer, he pauses rather than sitting. He doesn't feel the need for borrowing of clothing but wonders if that would be the more polite thing to do - to accept - and when he tilts his head he does take one moment to wipe the back of his hand to both eyes. It comes away damp but is easily ignored as he sits beside Ciro, close enough their shoulders brush ever so slightly. ]
Part of me still feels I should go, but...
[ Trailing off, the empty space might speak for itself: but I don't want to, but I do not welcome that loneliness I've made false peace with. Not tonight. Dream leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped lightly, head bowed. Inside of Dream there isn't just a slow, inevitable failsafe running its course; there is also just the heart and memory of a boy first let into the world less than a decade ago. Though wet eyelashes are dark, no more tears struggle out, and Dream chuffs the softest, barest-there of laughs, almost not one at all.]
Are ... are you sure that it's alright?
[ His head cants to the side just a touch, not enough to look directly, and he lets his gaze slide forward again, away. Alright if he stays, alright if he doesn't know what he is or what is happening...'alright'. ...'alright' to want to do so. And again it blooms almost foreign in Dream's chest to the point that he raises one hand to his heart. It's a little too fast. Ah. He bows his head again, soft smile not wholly gone so far. ]