[ Long lashes flutter as he tilts his head into the unfurling caress along his cheek, wondering how lovely it would be to think everything between them was only a couple of months ago; that would be bliss.
Jack doesn't cry, despite the dampness collecting in his eyes and the soft uncertainty threading through both his voice and drawn shoulders. ]
What if I'm different?
[ Different to what you like? Will he be as good as Hiccup thinks, if that's the case? He doesn't know. It's like trying to copy an old, worn-out painting when you don't have the right paintbrush. ]
no subject
Jack doesn't cry, despite the dampness collecting in his eyes and the soft uncertainty threading through both his voice and drawn shoulders. ]
What if I'm different?
[ Different to what you like? Will he be as good as Hiccup thinks, if that's the case? He doesn't know. It's like trying to copy an old, worn-out painting when you don't have the right paintbrush. ]