Ivan knitted his hands into that sweater like a life raft.

But that wasn't good enough--he needed to comfort. Ran his hand up and down Volgin's back in languid motions; soothing him, and himself.

Was it really so impossible to save his Volgin back home? He wasn't even sure if he could make it back home.

"I can change it," he muttered in his fruitless efforts, sniveling like a child who couldn't get his way.

His grip tightened again, hand pausing at what seemed like such a...desperate thing to say--Ivan smiled sadly.

"...And I'm not going anywhere, Zhenya," he kissed whatever was closest. "I'm right here."