The words catch in his throat, for some reason, coming out with more of a stutter than he meant. Lysandre pauses, the way he always does when he's considering his words, his back still turned to Corbeau. Corbeau waits patiently, as he always does. Lysandre's words are worth listening to.
"That's a very kind thing to say. If you don't mind me pressing for details, how do you mean?"
"You're kind. And generous." Corbeau mutters, fidgeting with the hem of his shorts. "You're nice to me, even though you don't have to be. Ya took me in, and everythin'."
He doesn't have it in him to look Lysandre in the eye, even though he knows he should. Lysandre's always going on about proper etiquette and the like. It's respectful, he knows that. But the way Lysandre looks at people, looks straight through them like he's looking into the deepest parts of their soul... it's a little unnerving to Corbeau.
Corbeau decides to risk a glance towards Lysandre, and is a little shocked to see his eyes glistening, like he's about to cry. Oh, he's really gone and done it now, making his benefactor cry over what should have been an easy question. Now he's gonna be in trouble, and Lysandre's gonna hate him, and he's going to be thrown back onto the street–
Stop. Breathe. The fear of being left behind is strong, but Corbeau's certainty is stronger. Lysandre wants him here. Just because it *could* happen doesn't mean it will.
"Corbeau." Lysandre's voice is fragile, quiet and low in a way Corbeau has never heard before. "Please look at me."
Corbeau does, flinching when he sees the tears trailing down Lysandre's cheeks. Lysandre kneels in front of him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, looking him in the eye as he often does when he wants Corbeau to really listen to him. Corbeau keeps his hands tightly clasped in front of him, squaring his shoulders as he waits for the newest lecture.
"May I hug you?" Lysandre asks, his voice gravelly and strained.
"Um." Corbeau stutters. "Sure, I guess. You don't hafta ask."
Lysandre hugs him, tight and warm, and yet so careful and gentle. Corbeau's not sure what to make of it, but he hugs back, because it feels nice. Lysandre is the sort to get mushy over a project, so with Corbeau being one of those projects, it makes sense. But Lysandre's never been clingy like this before, and Corbeau's been with him for almost a year. It's super weird.
"Are you ok?" Corbeau asks quietly. "You're not, like, dying or anything, right?"
"No, dear boy, I am not dying." Lysandre laughs dryly. "I can't hug my favorite son?"
"I'm your only–" Corbeau feels retort wither on his tongue as he realizes what Lysandre said. He probably didn't mean it like that, it's just an easy way to explain their relationship. "You can do whatever you want, sir."
Lysandre frowns at that– he always does when Corbeau calls him "Sir"– but he doesn't say anything about it. Instead, he turns away, picking up one of Corbeau's books and setting it aside. Corbeau gratefully realizes this means he won't have to do his etiquette homework today– forced manners are such a pain– and so he turns his attention to his half finished math homework.
"Focus on your studies." Lysandre murmurs, already striding towards the door. "I've distracted you enough for one day."
Corbeau waits until he's gone, then pulls out his journal and flips to the first page. Lysandre told him, the first night he was here, that he could ask for anything "within reason", and he would get it in no more than a few days. Corbeau has never once asked for more than bare essentials– something that seems to frustrate Lysandre, wven if he never says it. But he kept the list that Lysandre started for him. At the top of the page, in Lysandre's signature blocky script, is a single sentence; "What I Want".
For the first time, Corbeau writes something under that line.
"I want to be like Lysandre. I want to be kind to those who need it most, to help people who can't help themselves, to feed the hungry, to shelter the lost, to cure the sick, and to comfort the lonely. I want to make sure no one in Lumioise ever feels the way I did, never again. And I want to do it for free. No matter what it takes, I don't want a single cent for it. I want to be better than what I started with."
Maybe Lysandre was right. Now that he has the conviction, he feels like he could do anything. And maybe one day, he actually will.
