[ No protest, when Astarion unclasps the little fastener holding the eyepatch taut across Iorveth's face― not even a flinch. A tacit acceptance of Astarion's reciprocated sentiment, even if Iorveth, too, thinks that it's highly contentious.

He doesn't want to argue the point. He doesn't want to argue against the idea that he could undo any of Astarion's pain, either, doesn't want to lecture that being in love with someone doesn't magically wipe someone's slate clean; no more fighting. (At least, for now.) It was monstrous of him to turn his back on Astarion and walk away, and it would be monstrous now to fortify himself against Astarion's kindness.

So he moves his touch, down and out from under Astarion's thin shirt, up and through silver hair, smoothing soft bangs away from the now-familiar map of his most important person's perfectly-aligned features. Iorveth stays that way for a few beats, taking everything in, committing that relaxed smile and the warm glow of red eyes to memory. ]

Then you can have as many moments with me as you please.

[ "I want you to be happy", essentially. Softening, Iorveth settles back with his head resting on Gale's impossibly soft pillow, still stroking Astarion's hair. ]

...Never doubt that you are― and will remain― the most important person in my life.

[ If Astarion needs it said a thousand times, Iorveth will. ]