averagemedium | [Off-Comm Threads]

[He's content to just let the pushing happen, keeping his hold on Henry as the backs of his legs bump up against the couch and he flops carelessly backward, settling easily into place there. The motion's all memory, the returned familiarity of being in another place he calls home; in his mind it had felt a little more distant, but on some level he still knows this apartment intimately.]

It wasn't that small, that's just... it's sort of what was left over from it getting through. I can't deal with it yet, I've been trying to, but it's-- it's not really like any other spirit I've dealt with.

[He shrugs one shoulder, a little uncomfortably. Ryan knows Henry isn't going to like the rest of this explanation.]

It killed me, when it came through. Turns out I don't stay very dead at home either.

[Though he's about to follow him down on the couch, when Henry hears the last of that explanation, he stops, stares at him with little expression.

'Killed' and 'Ryan' were not thoughts that were meant to occur together, even when they were followed by the consolation of not staying that way. But he's at a loss at what to say. It should have been straightforward, it shouldn't have mattered; he was alive now, he was going to stay that way, Henry hadn't even seen it, there was no reason to be bothered. If it had been anyone else he would've eagerly pressed for details, indifferent of what it would be like to speak of.

But it was harder than that, somehow.]

...ah.

[Is the most he manages at first. With slow deliberation, Henry climbs down into his lap, settling there, resting his head against Ryan's shoulder. He's quiet, running the palm of his hand down his bare arm. So quiet that there's little warning when he suddenly bites down at the juncture of neck and shoulder, clinging to Ryan in a different way, but with no less desperation.

It wasn't out of any actual desire to bite him, much less hurt him. But it was better than crying again.]

[The look Henry gets while he stares is faintly worried; he'd known it wouldn't be taken well, but for a moment he's concerned about just how poorly it seems to have gone over. Ryan's just about to ask if he's alright, try to pull him onto the couch, when Henry finally settles on him and rests there; he breathes out a relieved sigh, arms wrapping around to hold him tight.

And then he abruptly feels teeth sink into his shoulder. The sensation's unexpected enough to startle a gasp out of him, but he quickly relaxes, holding tighter to Henry with a soft, low murmur.]

It's alright, love, I'm alright. It was a couple years ago.

[It was another thing to take in, to push back and accept.

Letting go- with his teeth, at least- he shakes his head wordlessly, shifting to nudge his head underneath Ryan's chin, burying his face against his neck.

He really didn't want to think about him dying again, no matter how many years ago it was to him.]

[Ryan tucks his chin on top of Henry's head, his own tilting slightly to be able to nuzzle there. The lack of words is an expected thing, and he's silent as well in his comforting; one hand shifts up to rub firmly at Henry's back in a steady, repetitive motion, and as Ryan holds him close he rocks slightly, a similarly steady and gentle movement meant to soothe as much as he can.

The only sound he bothers making isn't to say anything-- instead he's simply humming something under his breath, a tune he's always personally found calming. They don't need to talk about it, but he still can't stand when Henry's obviously uncomfortable.]

[He breaths slowly, gradually relaxing properly. Henry hadn't slept since he'd found Ryan gone. But he lets himself focus on nothing but his voice- for now, nothing else mattered, Ryan was there, and intact. He was alive now.

Under these conditions, it won't be long at all before Henry passes out, reassured by the sound, warmth, the familiar scent. But he fumbles for one of Ryan's hands first, pulling the ring off his own finger, where he'd kept it in his absence- and pressing it back in place.]

Thanks, love.

[It's a quiet murmur as he laces his fingers into Henry's, squeezing gently. The ring's a comfort, a reminder that what he remembers leaving here in his absence is all still real.

Ryan's content to rest there and hold him while he sleeps, even if he's not quite tired enough to pass out himself; he wouldn't dream of disturbing him, and besides, he'd forgotten just how cute Henry is when he's sleeping. Still, once he's sure his partner's unconscious, he'll eventually try to move him gently enough that he doesn't wake, so that Ryan can curl up with him in bed instead.]

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