[ He nods, smoothing his thumb against Sylvain's temple, laughing lightly at himself. ]

I'm -- not very good at talking. I never quite say what I mean to, though I've been doing oddly well this morning.

But that's what I meant. It was good we talked then, too. I can promise that, if you can too. [ There's a brush of shyness, his eyes dipping. Demanding, even asking something of a lover is still new. Even if he knows Sylvain wants him to. ] I don't want you holding hurt in either. I much prefer being able to soothe it.

[ He doesn't bring up their conversation on the beach the night Sylvain told him about his brother, but it's certainly on his mind, too. ]