[his first reaction is to tense up all over, feeling crowded like a bird with pinned wings. Everything is just so chaotic--he feels like there are still pieces of him spinning around free-floating, not quite put together right--the embrace adds pressure to already feeling sick and strangled.
The contact is not something he's used to, anyway. It's something that jumps past his comfort zone, sidling right into somewhere that he normally doesn't even have to worry about protecting. Everyone is kept at such a far arm's reach that they never even try. But now, Robin is suddenly there, and Coil doesn't have the chance or the strength to put him back where he belongs, this time. And it's not just the Robin who likes to play with and bother him-- it's whoever took time to talk to him at the end.
At first, Coil feels like fluttering and fighting. And then, to his disjointed horror, he realizes that it's pulling him back together a little bit. Being wrapped up, held still, it slows him down enough. He needs to be in control, he can't manage it himself, and succumbing to this fact crushes him a little more. It takes him a few distraught moments, but he finally gives up.
He sinks a little. His head bows; his fingers move just enough from clutching the blanket to hang loosely onto Robin's sleeve, as his remaining supports begin to crack.]
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The contact is not something he's used to, anyway. It's something that jumps past his comfort zone, sidling right into somewhere that he normally doesn't even have to worry about protecting. Everyone is kept at such a far arm's reach that they never even try. But now, Robin is suddenly there, and Coil doesn't have the chance or the strength to put him back where he belongs, this time. And it's not just the Robin who likes to play with and bother him-- it's whoever took time to talk to him at the end.
At first, Coil feels like fluttering and fighting. And then, to his disjointed horror, he realizes that it's pulling him back together a little bit. Being wrapped up, held still, it slows him down enough. He needs to be in control, he can't manage it himself, and succumbing to this fact crushes him a little more. It takes him a few distraught moments, but he finally gives up.
He sinks a little. His head bows; his fingers move just enough from clutching the blanket to hang loosely onto Robin's sleeve, as his remaining supports begin to crack.]