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Please include rough day/time in the header of the comment just for timeline's sake.

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The kiss is sweet, tender... he can feel himself warming again. It's unfamiliar, given that he runs a bit cool, but it's not... unwelcome.

"'Tis not as if there doth be much here to busy mineself with. Not even a tome to read..." It's boring. There's not even a lot of things he can fight, and he can only whack a tree so many times before he gets irritated that it's not fighting back. "But I wouldst protect thee, should the situation call for it."

Bound to him? He huffs in amusement and presses a kiss to the other's forehead. "I doth not feel bound to thee, only by mine feelings." He curls up next to Sunday, leaning into him. He'd hold him from behind but he doesn't want to cage the other's wings.

"I wilt not go on mine own either, even if that doth be what I hath become accustomed to. You shalt have no cause to worry." ... He hopes, at least.

Sunday gives the other man a sympathetic look. It was boring here. But he found that he didn't mind it, not really.

"I would hate to see you hurt on my behalf." Sunday admits, his voice soft, warm. Fou-Lu lies with him, leaning close. Sunday is just glad to have him near, to feel him close like this again. Sunday's hand finds his cheek, gently cupping it. "I will also do what I can to support you. I am here, I am never far."

Loneliness had carved a great hole in Sunday's chest, over many years. The edges of it are still raw from the loss of everyone he loved, everyone he'd known. And yet... These last few weeks upon this Ship have proven to him that he didn't have to pull himself away, that he didn't have to be alone.

Slowly, surely, something in him was starting to change. It was raw, a great undoing of everything he'd previously come to know, accept. A tangled, woven net that had only just begun to unravel. It was difficult. But he wasn't alone, through it.

The promise he'd just made still lingers at the back of his mind, a paradise without the dream had seemed so impossible, before. He feels the older man close, feels warm lips against his forehead, knows that he's bared his soul to this man and it hasn't yet turned him either away or against him, and.... A feeling flutters in his chest.

Maybe it would be okay. Maybe everything could be.

He was glad that Fou-Lu didn't feel bound, forced into this, as though the act of loving and being loved by Sunday were a cage. The halovian wants nothing more than the endless' safety, his happiness, with or without him at his side. But to have the chance to linger close like this for now.... It was more than enough.

"Thank you. I know this place is boring for you, and I don't want to simply... ask you not to explore. It wouldn't be fair of me." Fou-Lu's words are reassuring. He trusts them, trusts him to keep them. He smiles. "I... know that you are capable. Strong on your own. I trust that you know what you're doing, much more than I do. All I want is for you to be okay. And if you aren't..."

A wing at Sunday's waist reaches over, gently resting upon Fou-Lu. Holding him close, but easily moved, if it were too much, if he felt smothered. His wings were not large or high enough on his back to shelter the endless, but he could drape them over Fou-Lu, when they were close.

"I want to be near. I want to aid you. In any way I can."

He takes some deep breaths, curling into the other. He can be... vulnerable. He can be weak with Sunday. It's okay, and it's not a statement on his strength or pride. It's just... being able to be weak. Being able to be here for the halovian and not have to be formal or careful or... anything but himself.

Even if he's not sure what 'he' is outside of his purpose.

"I doth feel the same. I doth be here for thee, in whatever manner I canst be of assistance." The wash of emotion has left him... tired. He reaches over to grab the sheet and pull it up around the two of them. A small gesture, but one that allows them to share the warmth of each other more easily.

"We shouldst both rest. It hath been an... emotional conversation for the both of us."

Sunday allows the other man to curl up against him, letting him have that quiet moment. Intimacy, closeness. Vulnerability. Sunday smiles, pressing a kiss to Fou-Lu's forehead. He feels. Comfortable like this. Without a need to put up walls or barriers between himself and anyone else, not having to hold himself with such care. He could simply... be.

Fou-Lu pulls a sheet over them, suggesting that they rest. Sunday feels that he agrees, it had been. A difficult comversation. Not a bad one. Not something negative, but. It had been emotional, even draining. He can feel the exhaustion in his face, his chest, heavy.

It had also been the first time he'd well and truly opened up to another, in quite some time. The first time in a long time, in which he had laid out all of himself, his sins, on display for another to examine... Sunday was a man that acted on behalf of his aeon, who had accepted confessions of wayward, fearful souls who only wished for understanding, forgiveness. He was a symbol. He was an older brother. It was improper of him to impose his problems on a sister so far away.

Where, and with who, could he lay his burdens down? His love for all people, his pessimism, his distrust, his fear?

"Let's rest, then. I think we both need it." Sunday's arm drapes over Fou-Lu, gentle, not wishing to make him feel trapped. Wanting only to hold him. Wondering if the other man had been held in this way before. A few solid moments pass, before he adds, voice hushed, "Thank you. For hearing me. For trying to understand."

Here. He could lay it here.