[ He'd wanted to escape the uncomfortableness of vulnerability as quickly as possible, but when Iorveth reaches out for him with that weak, tremulous grip, Astarion doesn't have it in himself to shake him off. Even as he returns to Iorveth's side, perching carefully on the bed beside him, the mattress dipping underneath his not-a-gnome weight.
A sudden wave of self-doubt crashes over him; perhaps he shouldn't have said it, maybe he's done this all wrong. Although he's a stranger to romance, even he knows that bleeding profusely in a gnome-sized bed in the guest room of a stranger and her cats isn't a romantic setting. It had just come out impulsively, thoughtless like everything he does. He's never told someone he loves them before—not while meaning it, anyway—and his inexperience got the best of him.
Part of him wants to blurt out that he was only kidding, of course, and laugh at Iorveth for believing him. Instead, he uncharacteristically says nothing, staring down at the bedspread and picking at a loose thread. ]
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A sudden wave of self-doubt crashes over him; perhaps he shouldn't have said it, maybe he's done this all wrong. Although he's a stranger to romance, even he knows that bleeding profusely in a gnome-sized bed in the guest room of a stranger and her cats isn't a romantic setting. It had just come out impulsively, thoughtless like everything he does. He's never told someone he loves them before—not while meaning it, anyway—and his inexperience got the best of him.
Part of him wants to blurt out that he was only kidding, of course, and laugh at Iorveth for believing him. Instead, he uncharacteristically says nothing, staring down at the bedspread and picking at a loose thread. ]