I Was Drinking With Cupid

Nairn flinched, listening to her cry, caught the way she trembled from the corner of his eye. But his gaze had flitted, startled to the being that came to life from the dust and dirt. Sylaise. Nosy fucking Evanuris.

There was a-al-always, he frowned at himself, brow furrowing. a chance. D-didn't seem im-pro... important, if it wasn't true. He cleared his throat, and pressed the fingers of one hand against his lips. He inhaled slowly, and let his gaze leave the spirit in the room. His... mother, never t-told me if the ch-child survived. He'd settled the hand against his lips against his chest, tapping silently against metal, in time with the gear's broken whir. Why... would I tell you if I don't know if it's true? Just as bad as a l-l-lie.

Because in his mind, it was. If the child was dead, she's worried about someone who's gone. He exhaled deeply, and leaned against the couch, staring towards her but still not meeting her gaze. And slowly, eyes glancing from her to the spirit, he'd push himself to his knees. And with a great amount of concentration, he'd find his feet. Taking a second to acclimate to being upright, he'd move to stand in front of her. It doesn't occur to him to explain how he knows this is his child; save for the obvious familial resemblance between the two of them.

Ir abelas, Meghren. An apology was not enough; he'd always been adamant he'd never wanted children, that her inability to provide that would never come into play in their relationship. He'd meant it. But now's not the time to tell her that he doesn't want this son. He reached to touch her face, fingers gentle despite callouses built-up over time, unless she pulled away he'd swipe his thumb under her eyes, wiping away tear tracks. I'm sorry.

@Megara Fern