Convincing Confessions?

[Raffe]

He hadn’t meant fireworks like that; in fact the nature of their relationship hadn’t actually occurred to him, though he supposed he had an answer now, if he’d ever thought to ask the question.

Nox’s reassurance was a surprisingly solid thing, foundations that didn’t threaten to sink with the weight of doubt. Raffe hadn’t really realised how much he’d needed to hear it. Usually it was him dishing out the wisdom and comfort to others, or just being the listening ear. He scrubbed a hand over his head, but the lines between his brow had eased. The fears didn’t go. Scars ran too deep for that. But they were subdued, and he felt better for having had the conversation he had admittedly been avoiding. And for sharing about his parents. Not that it had ever been a secret, but neither was it something he chose to speak about with others. Even Carmen.

Talk of the Atharim and their beliefs widened his eyes a little, though he tried not to dwell on it. He understood fear of the power, and what it could do -- hell, even what it felt like. But the thought that they would have expected Nox to kill himself (let alone his family too) made him feel sick to his stomach. It made him realise how much Nox must have lost when he'd discovered he was a channeler. His hand pressed against the one on his knee.

“Did you just Uncle Ben me?” He half grinned. He hadn’t entirely forgotten about the growl of Nox’s stomach, but he was thinking about the things he had said more. Well, one thing in particular. The smile was hard-pressed to dim after that, whatever darkness waited in the future, or how difficult it was going to be to wrestle with this new power, or what might happen with the horde in Nox’s head. Considering which, he tried not to lean in, or spend too much time looking at lips or bare flesh in the soft shadows. “So, uh. Food. This dojo place. Anything else for today’s itinerary? Or tomorrow’s maybe … what time is it anyway?”