Blue eyes widen in shock, his heartbeat starts running incredibly fast. Bloody hell. Those three words are so much bigger than what he expected, and he isn't sure if Geralt realizes exactly how much Jaskier wants to ask for. Has he listened to "Her Sweet Kiss"? Understood its meaning? Probably not, too busy with Ciri.
"I want to! So badly." He suddenly exclaims - Jaskier has never had much control of his emotions, always carrying his heart in his sleeve, yet he can feel himself losing it right now. His voice breaks a little with the next words, his hands squeezing Geralt's fingers. "...I've missed you."
It hurts his pride to admit it. Jaskier would've liked to have been a petty bitch for the past few months, able to dismiss pain and move on. But that's also not true at all, he loves to love openly and freely, he loves feeling this strongly, and no matter how he tried to pretend he was over it... he never stopped missing Geralt.
Whatever you want is a lot. It's a fire in his chest, and he's scared of burning. If Geralt had asked before the mountain, Jaskier would've jumped on it. Now, however? Now he needs to know their friendship is fine before he can even consider anything else. And as much as he hates having this thought, sooner or later he'll have to ask about certain sorceress as well. That is, if Geralt means his offer that way in the first place - Jaskier still has doubts.
"You told me thousands of times that we weren't friends. And the last year I kept thinking: you should've listened, Jaskier, you're such an utter fool." He shakes his head at himself before looking at Geralt again, his expression and tone of voice demanding to be taken seriously. To be paid attention to. "I know it's hard for you to relate to people, Geralt. I know better than anyone, and that's why I've been patient for twenty bloody years. I don't expect you to suddenly read me poetry and laugh at my jokes. Banter is good, teasing is what friends do - you tell me to shut up, not meaning it, I tell you you're emotionally constipated. It works. But there's also only so much I can take."
A deep breath. Here goes nothing.
"I want to forgive you, and I know I will, because I am a fool, especially for you. But I need your word that at least you're going to try, Geralt. No more filling-less pie. No more 'we aren't friends'. No more pushing me away. Can I have that much at least?" He shouldn't be a manipulative bastard, but as a wordsmith, the urge is stronger than him. "Hasn't my loyalty earned that consideration?"
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Blue eyes widen in shock, his heartbeat starts running incredibly fast. Bloody hell. Those three words are so much bigger than what he expected, and he isn't sure if Geralt realizes exactly how much Jaskier wants to ask for. Has he listened to "Her Sweet Kiss"? Understood its meaning? Probably not, too busy with Ciri.
"I want to! So badly." He suddenly exclaims - Jaskier has never had much control of his emotions, always carrying his heart in his sleeve, yet he can feel himself losing it right now. His voice breaks a little with the next words, his hands squeezing Geralt's fingers. "...I've missed you."
It hurts his pride to admit it. Jaskier would've liked to have been a petty bitch for the past few months, able to dismiss pain and move on. But that's also not true at all, he loves to love openly and freely, he loves feeling this strongly, and no matter how he tried to pretend he was over it... he never stopped missing Geralt.
Whatever you want is a lot. It's a fire in his chest, and he's scared of burning. If Geralt had asked before the mountain, Jaskier would've jumped on it. Now, however? Now he needs to know their friendship is fine before he can even consider anything else. And as much as he hates having this thought, sooner or later he'll have to ask about certain sorceress as well. That is, if Geralt means his offer that way in the first place - Jaskier still has doubts.
"You told me thousands of times that we weren't friends. And the last year I kept thinking: you should've listened, Jaskier, you're such an utter fool." He shakes his head at himself before looking at Geralt again, his expression and tone of voice demanding to be taken seriously. To be paid attention to. "I know it's hard for you to relate to people, Geralt. I know better than anyone, and that's why I've been patient for twenty bloody years. I don't expect you to suddenly read me poetry and laugh at my jokes. Banter is good, teasing is what friends do - you tell me to shut up, not meaning it, I tell you you're emotionally constipated. It works. But there's also only so much I can take."
A deep breath. Here goes nothing.
"I want to forgive you, and I know I will, because I am a fool, especially for you. But I need your word that at least you're going to try, Geralt. No more filling-less pie. No more 'we aren't friends'. No more pushing me away. Can I have that much at least?" He shouldn't be a manipulative bastard, but as a wordsmith, the urge is stronger than him. "Hasn't my loyalty earned that consideration?"