[ There's nothing about Andyr he'd ever considered fragile, but in that moment, with the tentative lean of his body into his and the way he reaches up to grip his shirt, Steve thinks that he is. The strong always fall to their own weaknesses regardless of how aware they think they are of them, and Andyr's is very much the same as his own, a heart that continues to bleed long after they've thought it dried up. His intensity to care speaks louder than any words he could have ever said, a simple touch that soaks straight through Steve and swells in his chest as he feels Andyr breathing against his shoulder. He wants to tell him that he's sorry, that he'd never try to foolishly risk himself for something so trivial in the scheme of it all. He wants to drag his fingers through his hair, cradle the back of his head, and he wants so fiercely to protect him, to give him anything and everything he asks for until there's no reason to doubt how loyal he is to him.

How much he would give up for him. How much he'd always give up for him.

But at the same time, Steve's glad for it, getting his other arm around him so he's embracing him in some semi-awkward hug that has them connected in the oddest places. He turns his head to the side, cheek resting against Andyr's temple, and he stands there with him like that for at least a minute, soaking in the realness of his presence and doing what he can to reassure him without words to back them up. Eventually, though, they trickle out of him. They usually do. ] I never wanted it to be like this. [ Low, soft. Steve moves so that his mouth gently rests where his cheek had been, forcing himself to shut out the world and all its complications to focus on Andyr and the way he feels like he's sinking into him. ] I didn't wanna hurt you. [ He swallows. ] I made that promise, and I went back on what I said because I wasn't thinking. [ And his arm tightens around him, his lips pressed roughly to his hair. ] I should have gone with you.

[ i'm sorry ]