[ Bending his spine, he leans his upper half away from Liem. Unwilling to break from his hold entirely, but badly needing to see his face as those cool fingers stroke through his hair. What Liem says and what Liem does confuse him, so much. He says he cannot love, yet the simple acceptance he offers and the gentle contact ( the commiseration over their struggles with diet, with food; the horrific similarities between the men who desire to own them; the agonizing lack of self worth ) are more than Set could ask for. Are they not forms of love? Could they not be?

His hands sweep up, to the wetness on Liem's cheeks. Such a stoic man, and here he stands crying — and why? Because someone wants to love him and be loved in return? Liem is crying. The way that Set had wept in his lap, sobbing because he hadn't even had the opportunity to help this man at the time and he had thought him lost. Had prepared, then, to still be his friend even if it meant ending his life to keep his promise to his son. And then Liem had come back, and in part for him. How strange, to be shown such consideration!

So, he dips down a little, to place his face at the line of Liem's eye — and drags the warmth of his tongue, animal-like, across the salt of his tears before meeting his eye.

]

I do not believe that about you. Any of it. Let me learn who you are, and determine that for myself. I do not need you to love me — I want you to. And if... you do not, that is fine. But, I will not accept that you are incapable of it.