[Like a drowning man is a phrase for a reason. Tristan sucks in the breath with a sob. His free good hand, still with the hair clasp in it, reaching up to curl desperately against the front of his brother's shirt. This is wrong, this is horrible, this is enough that he's crying, tears falling down his cheeks. But he doesn't have the air to sob and he couldn't stop himself from seeking to breathe if he tried. He gets it, he gets the game here, he doesn't want to but he can't pretend he doesn't when he can't breathe and the only way to fill his lungs is to do what Ariel wants.]

[He tugs on his brother's shirt, presses up, mouth open and inviting, lips sealing against Ariel's as firmly as he can, desperate, the noise he makes absolutely wrecked and distressed and miserable.]