[This young man of barely twenty years has enough tears for the both of them as he leans into the touch like an anchor. Like a vessel for all the grief that should, and will, be poured out for their fallen friend.
Dean's chances of coming back- and Bolin, too, has to believe that he will- is a relief and brings some solace, but barely helps to stop the pain of the here and now.
He crushes his eyes closed as hard as he can, wiping at the tears he can't contain. He isn't embarrassed as he hides his eyes with his wrist, but he is about to lose what little grasp on them he has.]
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Dean's chances of coming back- and Bolin, too, has to believe that he will- is a relief and brings some solace, but barely helps to stop the pain of the here and now.
He crushes his eyes closed as hard as he can, wiping at the tears he can't contain. He isn't embarrassed as he hides his eyes with his wrist, but he is about to lose what little grasp on them he has.]