( he's not exactly expecting her to share anything: because he doesn't really have expectations, not in that sense, when it comes to her. he likes knowing whatever he can about her, likes when she tells him things that it feels he can add to the growing file of notes about her in his head, which of course is constantly running the risk of starting to like her a little more than he necessarily should--but he never thinks that she should share something simply to work out the balance of information between them, and it's cute, in a way, that they're not alike in that sense at all. he shares things with her carefully, softly, like he isn't sure whether she'll want it or not: she tries to balance that out with her own anecdotes, and somehow, comfortably, they meet in the middle.

it means that he goes quiet, attentive, when she starts to speak--he nods, faintly, the cream puff at his mouth, swallowing down the last of it like it helps keep his attention on that, rather than on speaking or interrupting. )

I think everyone is afraid of that, huh? ( softly, but it's more like he's wondering than anything else. ) Of losing...something you so desperately wanted, or that when you get it, it'll just...slip right out of your hands.

( that's hitting a little too close to home. but he nods, smiling, and puts his hands down into his lap to help her redirect the conversation elsewhere. )

Yeah. I wasn't raised for it, or anything. I just really wanted to be his friend, and it...went on from there. I'm super glad he let me do it, but sometimes I definitely feel out of place being the 'normal' one, y'know?