Viktor winding an arm around him seems to at least partially snap him out of it-- he jumps a little bit, but he doesn't look quite as lost. His eyes meet Viktor's in the mirror and he leans back into him a little bit, clearly seeking comfort, even though it's probably not entirely clear why until he breathes out,
"I look like you," he has no idea if that's coherent, if Viktor's going to understand what he's saying or not. Sometimes, they don't even need verbal sentences to finish each other's but sometimes the gulf feels too wide to ever cross, and he's never sure which it's going to be. The tone is clearly wonder, however.
He doesn't look like Viktor, obviously, but in these clothes, like this, he can see himself like the idea of Viktor. He looks like he belongs in a magazine. He does not know what to do with seeing himself looking like he belongs in a magazine.
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"I look like you," he has no idea if that's coherent, if Viktor's going to understand what he's saying or not. Sometimes, they don't even need verbal sentences to finish each other's but sometimes the gulf feels too wide to ever cross, and he's never sure which it's going to be. The tone is clearly wonder, however.
He doesn't look like Viktor, obviously, but in these clothes, like this, he can see himself like the idea of Viktor. He looks like he belongs in a magazine. He does not know what to do with seeing himself looking like he belongs in a magazine.