It's the kind of thing he's loath to tell Alistair, but it's true nonetheless: the same strategies he uses to delay or lessen pain, the same rituals he uses in prayer -- they're what Cullen calls on now to make what he feels diffuse from the point of greatest intensity. It's how Cullen endures, this kind of dissociation.
It comes out in his hands, in the way his fingers clench Alistair's, in the way his other hand begins to tangle in Alistair's hair before Cullen pulls it away lest he inadvertently hurt him.
It comes out in his breath, ragged but striving for an even rhythm.
It's safe, in here. But it's not safe enough to let go of discipline, to turn himself wholly over to Alistair, body and soul. One clear thought, a prayer to no one: Don't let my failures hurt him.
no subject
It's the kind of thing he's loath to tell Alistair, but it's true nonetheless: the same strategies he uses to delay or lessen pain, the same rituals he uses in prayer -- they're what Cullen calls on now to make what he feels diffuse from the point of greatest intensity. It's how Cullen endures, this kind of dissociation.
It comes out in his hands, in the way his fingers clench Alistair's, in the way his other hand begins to tangle in Alistair's hair before Cullen pulls it away lest he inadvertently hurt him.
It comes out in his breath, ragged but striving for an even rhythm.
It's safe, in here. But it's not safe enough to let go of discipline, to turn himself wholly over to Alistair, body and soul. One clear thought, a prayer to no one: Don't let my failures hurt him.