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“I didn't want you to think less of me.”
The words hang in the air for a moment, heavy and sobering, and Fenris shifts his gaze to the floor. He feels suddenly embarrassed; a sensation he's not used to around Hawke.
He hears a loud whoosh of air leave their lungs. Somewhere between a gasp and a sigh. He's not sure what it means but he refuses to look up. He feels filthy even discussing the subject.
“Maker, Fenris.” they breathe, “Why would I think less of you?”
“I do.”
The words are softer than he intends. He can barely get them out; the desire to simply go and hide himself now that Hawke knows this is so strong.
He wants to go back. Back before they saw the way he stumbled over himself in bed. The way he got lost—glassy eyed and fearful—the moment they touched him with gentleness and love rather than want. Back before they'd heard Danarius sneer at Hawke's affection like it was a dog guarding a bone. Like he was a conquest and not a person.
He swallows hard and finally raises his gaze to meet theirs again. He finds them misty eyed and chewing their lower lip, like they want to say something but cannot find the words.
“Hawke, I—“ he falters, lump forming in his throat, “I understand if you no longer want to—“
“Fenris.”
They sound near tears and he stops, looking at them with furrowed brows, and finds their arms held out to him; beckoning. They haven't embraced since Leandra's passing—his choice. They knew touch was something delicate for him, otherwise they may have just grabbed him now.
He steps into their arms with the strangest notion; one that tells him he should comfort them. This thought does not last long, however, when they speak softly against his shoulder.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of.” their hand raises and tangles into his hair, holding him gently in place, “Nothing that they did to you or made you do is your fault.”
Fenris presses his nose into their coat and blinks back tears. In his head, his lack of resistance and eventual willingness were simply weakness. It was easier to give in, to be the eager pet rather than risk punishment. It made him feel disgusting.
But Hawke was right. He'd survived. He'd gotten far enough to meet them. To be in their arms, right now.
“I am still damaged.” he says quietly.
“You are healing.” Hawke replies, gentle as ever, “And I'm not going anywhere. Just tell me how I can help.”
Fenris thinks of their gentle questions during their first night together. Their pauses, cautiously meeting his gaze when he froze. They stopped once, in the middle of things, and Hawke quietly breathed with him while he came down from peeked anxiety. Before they even knew why; before they even understood what he was experiencing. They had been helping.
“Please stay.” He tries not to sound like he's begging but his voice breaks and his grip tightens on their coat. He can't bare the thought of moving forward in this without them.
He already knows he doesn't have to, however.
“Whatever you need.”
Fenris winds one of his arms around their waist, pulling them just a bit closer, and breathes deeply. He feels safe, at home in the embrace of another. Something he never dreamed of before.
“You.” he says, “Only you.”