He's wearing a long-sleeved sweater specifically for this reason. For the just in case. His hands are pitch black and matte, but they're busy covering his mouth while he remembers how to breathe. Touch is grounding, always has been. Stops his mind from spinning off in the millions of different directions it could go, and stops him from lashing out with the wrong side of his abilities.
Nothing stays dead.
He should be happy that she's here. That she's been here, away from everything. That she doesn't know what he's done or what he's been doing. ]
I... [ He swallows hard, forcing himself to breathe. ] Is she happy here?
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He's wearing a long-sleeved sweater specifically for this reason. For the just in case. His hands are pitch black and matte, but they're busy covering his mouth while he remembers how to breathe. Touch is grounding, always has been. Stops his mind from spinning off in the millions of different directions it could go, and stops him from lashing out with the wrong side of his abilities.
Nothing stays dead.
He should be happy that she's here. That she's been here, away from everything. That she doesn't know what he's done or what he's been doing. ]
I... [ He swallows hard, forcing himself to breathe. ] Is she happy here?