(this most likely hurts more than any of these wounds ever did. the touch is too warm, too nice, chuuya's precious hands, so important to his own vision of his humanity touching something so inhuman as his own skin. he's never felt a kiss where his bandages hide, so he freezes a little for a second.
his arms hesitate, as if he shouldn't, he couldn't, wrap them around chuuya. they hover, the eternal fight between his own wishes and his own cowardice, before they loosely do embrace the other's waist, hiding his face on the top of the other's head.
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his arms hesitate, as if he shouldn't, he couldn't, wrap them around chuuya. they hover, the eternal fight between his own wishes and his own cowardice, before they loosely do embrace the other's waist, hiding his face on the top of the other's head.
he needs a breather.)