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Miranda took a deep breath, clenching his teeth, fists, so hard his nails left marks and jaw ached. He tried at taking in deep, controlled but shaky breaths, arms trembling, and for the first time in forever, he really felt the weight of that gun in his hand, the one he shot everyday. He also, to his best efforts, kept the scowl that ached to morf into a frown.
For a couple seconds, he didn't wanna look Groff in the eye, maybe never do so again, because that would break him. It had, recently. Eventually, though, because Jon was just that stubborn, he lifted Miranda's chin with an index.
Miranda's breathing grew quicker and heavier and Jon's head tilted slightly. Lin was just so exhausted, mentally and physically.
Lin huffed out a small, relieving breath, bending down to rest his forehead on Jon's shoulder, shoulder's shaking. Jon grabbed hold of his arm, bringing him in, head mirroring his, neck craning down.
Lin always noticed (and even more so with those broad shoulders, goddamn) that Jon was just a bit bigger, a bit taller than him. Sure, maybe not when he was scrawny with noodles for arms and such but even then Lin always had to crane his neck up a bit. He was just a little smaller than him. He didn't like the idea of feeling small- but he liked the idea of Jon being bigger than him.
Jon clutched at his upper arm, bunching up the fabric there from the shirt he'd just bought him last week and yeah, this fucking sucked.
