Love….he didn’t understand that emotion at all. Was that what he had felt for his Corporal for so long…? Was that why he was so comforted by his presence even though the man was rather intimidating to everyone else? It had explained a few things, and though he was awkward, he did the best he could to express it.
Arms wrapped around a smaller frame, he held him gently as if afraid he could break him if he held too tightly; afraid that this was some kind of dream and hidden wishful thinking he had never wanted to acknowledge. Rivaille had been confused, but he hadn’t pushed the man away.
“Forgive me for loving you…”
He felt guilty about it. Guilty because loving his Corporal was unprofessional, and for men like them, it was such a painful emotion. They could die at any time after all—the pain that would linger afterwards would be hard to bear. The moment the smaller man glanced up to him, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to his. He shouldn’t love him, but he did. That would probably never change.