He doesn't know what he'd meant to ask. He doesn't know how to move words together or translate thoughts into coherent speech.
Too much that remains unspoken. Too much glimpsed with meager acknowledgement. And too much that crests close to comprehension, that disturbs his confirmed detachment without quite breaking through. Caught somewhere between, caught all too close to seeing, and Grantaire doesn't know whether to back away or push harder, nor does he know how.
"'Here' is not... What I mean. Your eyes. Something has happened."
no subject
He doesn't know what he'd meant to ask. He doesn't know how to move words together or translate thoughts into coherent speech.
Too much that remains unspoken. Too much glimpsed with meager acknowledgement. And too much that crests close to comprehension, that disturbs his confirmed detachment without quite breaking through. Caught somewhere between, caught all too close to seeing, and Grantaire doesn't know whether to back away or push harder, nor does he know how.
"'Here' is not... What I mean. Your eyes. Something has happened."