Because Gorgug might be experiencing it in this moment. Yes, he was feeling pouty (still), but he wasn't expecting Fabian to try and do anything about it. This next part after him getting dressed is meant to involve them leaving the walk-in closet, and maybe Gorgug realising and trying to fix those jeans with a mending spell (can anything truly help the jeans at this point? probably not).
But Fabian has other plans. He has other ideas, none of which Gorgug has any expectation or suspicion for, even as he comes over to him, as opposed to out of the closet so that Gorgug can step out, too. It's only as the hands come to reach for his cheeks that a confusion starts to trickle over him, though Gorgug doesn't resist, despite the small worry that this is somehow going to turn out bad for him (is Fabian mad about the jeans? he's probably mad about the jeans).
The worry he did have, however, isn't the direction that he should have gone in. Instead, the confusion that had trickled in is now a flood--one that freezes on his face like a deer in headlights, the warmth perhaps instant against Fabian's hands. His eyes are on Fabian's singular, and they're what manage to regain movement again when they look down, Gorgug not pulling away still from an otherwise gentle hold. He doesn't think he must look very good, really, and he knows Fabian is just being nice, but--he can still appreciate the sentiment all the same.
Even if, shyly: ]
...Thank you.
[ Being called beautiful is a lot, and from anyone else it would sound like a tease, a cruel one, than something fun and kind. A kindness that can make him putty in his best friend's hands as the warmth from his face has reached his ears. ]
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Because Gorgug might be experiencing it in this moment. Yes, he was feeling pouty (still), but he wasn't expecting Fabian to try and do anything about it. This next part after him getting dressed is meant to involve them leaving the walk-in closet, and maybe Gorgug realising and trying to fix those jeans with a mending spell (can anything truly help the jeans at this point? probably not).
But Fabian has other plans. He has other ideas, none of which Gorgug has any expectation or suspicion for, even as he comes over to him, as opposed to out of the closet so that Gorgug can step out, too. It's only as the hands come to reach for his cheeks that a confusion starts to trickle over him, though Gorgug doesn't resist, despite the small worry that this is somehow going to turn out bad for him (is Fabian mad about the jeans? he's probably mad about the jeans).
The worry he did have, however, isn't the direction that he should have gone in. Instead, the confusion that had trickled in is now a flood--one that freezes on his face like a deer in headlights, the warmth perhaps instant against Fabian's hands. His eyes are on Fabian's singular, and they're what manage to regain movement again when they look down, Gorgug not pulling away still from an otherwise gentle hold. He doesn't think he must look very good, really, and he knows Fabian is just being nice, but--he can still appreciate the sentiment all the same.
Even if, shyly: ]
...Thank you.
[ Being called beautiful is a lot, and from anyone else it would sound like a tease, a cruel one, than something fun and kind. A kindness that can make him putty in his best friend's hands as the warmth from his face has reached his ears. ]