Dirk stares when Bro stands up and moves around the table. For some reason, he didn't realize what Bro was doing until he was actually being hugged. It's the reason he hesitates for a moment before returning the hug, but within a second he's gripping Bro just as hard as he's being held himself. He's honestly not sure which of them is shaking, or if it's the both of them, but the only way he can think of to make it stop is to tighten his grip again. It feels like the air is being squeezed out of him, but he can't bring himself to care.


He manages a weak laugh. "You sound like you're talking out of a romance novel." It doesn't stop him from squeezing Bro tight, though. And it's not going to stop Bro's shirt from getting damp when Dirk presses his face against it, either. He's not sure if he could describe how he feels. Relieved, maybe, that Bro's ready to make that kind of effort. Mostly, though, he feels wrung empty, of tears, of emotions. He's emotionally exhausted, even if he's not ready to go to sleep. He wants to go back to normal. He wants there to still be a normal, as though the two of them haven't managed to flip their world completely upside down.

It's a while before Dirk's grip loosens. When it does, he rubs at his face a final time. He looks like he's been crying, and now that he's aware of it, he wants to brush past it, or get his shades to hide the redness of his eyes.