[Practically, Natsume knows that the best thing to do would be to back away, to leave, to make some excuse to remove himself. That's his first, immediate inclination, escape the situation he's somehow created.
But there's an instinct there too, stronger than societal awkwardness, something that's been brewing since the second he'd seen Junpei, sitting there in the booth, pale and aloof and beautiful and untouchable. He's not untouchable now, folded in on himself, in tears. Natsume had said all sorts of things about not wanting to save him, but he does. He does.
He's across the room in an instant, reaching out, arms going around the omega's waist to tug him close, face buried against his neck. Every bit of control he'd had is melting away, not because of Junpei's seduction or his lines or his rehearsed actions, but because of his pain. Natsume wants him, wants him so badly it hurts, but he wants to make that pain go away even more.]
Tell me how to fix it. [It's quiet, urgent, almost pleading.] Tell me what to do and I'll do it. Anything. Anything you want.
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But there's an instinct there too, stronger than societal awkwardness, something that's been brewing since the second he'd seen Junpei, sitting there in the booth, pale and aloof and beautiful and untouchable. He's not untouchable now, folded in on himself, in tears. Natsume had said all sorts of things about not wanting to save him, but he does. He does.
He's across the room in an instant, reaching out, arms going around the omega's waist to tug him close, face buried against his neck. Every bit of control he'd had is melting away, not because of Junpei's seduction or his lines or his rehearsed actions, but because of his pain. Natsume wants him, wants him so badly it hurts, but he wants to make that pain go away even more.]
Tell me how to fix it. [It's quiet, urgent, almost pleading.] Tell me what to do and I'll do it. Anything. Anything you want.