Caleb's attention is all Yussa's. He is intrigued by even the smallest of his movements; the way his fingers rub across his chest, how his shoulders shift and his head tilts when he pushes up to look back at him. The look in the older wizard's eyes then makes Caleb feel...not chastised, exactly, but certainly like he's missed something crucial, and Yussa is belaboring the point to have to tell him what it is.
That he is worthy. That he can ask for things. What a novel concept.
"I--" He struggles, at first, to find the words he needs. How to communicate that he rarely feels worthy of anything, let alone what his life has become? That asking for more than what he has seems like too much? That sometimes the guilt prevents him from from pursuing the things he really wants? He thinks Yussa would understand where he is coming from, even if he wouldn't agree.
His arm tightens about the archmage's shoulders and Caleb bends his head toward him, touching his brow to Yussa's.
"I am grateful," he says first, with aching sincerity. "It is difficult to believe these things of myself. But it is equally difficult for me to say that you are wrong." His lips curl in a small, tight smile. "Barring an academic disagreement, of course." He has to brace himself against the anxiety connected to the very thing he is explaining. "I care for you a great deal. And I am afraid of doing something which could be seen as overstepping, including asking for more than is offered. I would not wish to lose you because I wanted too much."
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That he is worthy. That he can ask for things. What a novel concept.
"I--" He struggles, at first, to find the words he needs. How to communicate that he rarely feels worthy of anything, let alone what his life has become? That asking for more than what he has seems like too much? That sometimes the guilt prevents him from from pursuing the things he really wants? He thinks Yussa would understand where he is coming from, even if he wouldn't agree.
His arm tightens about the archmage's shoulders and Caleb bends his head toward him, touching his brow to Yussa's.
"I am grateful," he says first, with aching sincerity. "It is difficult to believe these things of myself. But it is equally difficult for me to say that you are wrong." His lips curl in a small, tight smile. "Barring an academic disagreement, of course." He has to brace himself against the anxiety connected to the very thing he is explaining. "I care for you a great deal. And I am afraid of doing something which could be seen as overstepping, including asking for more than is offered. I would not wish to lose you because I wanted too much."