Kieran had said you’re allowed to look, but Jude didn’t quite believe him. Besides, he was too self-conscious about it now, from that or from having just met his eyes. He averted his gaze, then, although the temptation was still there. After all, he had spent the last several hours, or rather the whole night, watching Kieran – the werewolf, the creature in Kieran’s place – intently; maybe it was harder to curb the habit now because of it. And perhaps because he’d been holding his wrists already, there was an acute impulse to touch him again – but just as Jude thought it, Kieran caught his hand.
Jude clasped his hand back gratefully, pressing Kieran’s palm to say thank you or I’m sorry or I’m glad you’re back or I hate seeing you like that. But it still wasn’t enough – didn’t feel like nearly enough – to express any of that, or to fully shake the lingering lonely feeling of the full moon night.
Without entirely knowing what he meant to do instead, Jude took a step forwards and wrapped his arms around Kieran. Still gingerly aware of the scars and bruises and probable tenderness from the transformation, he pulled him in close all the same, tucking his head over his shoulder, holding him tight. It was as if he needed proof, almost, that Kieran was back to himself again. Tangible, comforting proof, that could only truly be felt by the warm bare skin of his shoulders or almost being near enough to feel his heartbeat; or maybe it was another wordless way for Jude to say it doesn’t matter, this doesn’t change anything about you, nothing could; or maybe he had just spent too long, the last few nights, being so careful about keeping a safe distance that he was too tired to always do the same in the daylight.
Jude clasped his hand back gratefully, pressing Kieran’s palm to say thank you or I’m sorry or I’m glad you’re back or I hate seeing you like that. But it still wasn’t enough – didn’t feel like nearly enough – to express any of that, or to fully shake the lingering lonely feeling of the full moon night.
Without entirely knowing what he meant to do instead, Jude took a step forwards and wrapped his arms around Kieran. Still gingerly aware of the scars and bruises and probable tenderness from the transformation, he pulled him in close all the same, tucking his head over his shoulder, holding him tight. It was as if he needed proof, almost, that Kieran was back to himself again. Tangible, comforting proof, that could only truly be felt by the warm bare skin of his shoulders or almost being near enough to feel his heartbeat; or maybe it was another wordless way for Jude to say it doesn’t matter, this doesn’t change anything about you, nothing could; or maybe he had just spent too long, the last few nights, being so careful about keeping a safe distance that he was too tired to always do the same in the daylight.
