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When N tilts his head like a curious child and asks Touya why he links his hand with his own so often, Touya flushes and laughs and scratches the back of his head in that awkward way of his, responding with not much more than a mildly embarrassed, "Haha, do I?"
N had no idea there could be so many different ways to perform the same, simple gesture. The mere interlocking of extremities shouldn't be so hard for him to understand, should it?
It's gripping his fingers loosely and all but dragging him with an eager yell of Hey, we made it! when they're bounding toward the nearest city after an entire day's walk. It's a small, quick squeeze that seeks reassurance and unity when Touya draws a Pokeball from his belt, an opponent standing ready just opposite of them. It's an accidental brush of palm against wrist as they tread through the dusk of Petalburg Forest, one that lingers for what feels like far too long and yet nowhere near long enough.
It's Touya's hand covering his own like a blanket when N wakes in the middle of the night, just shortly after the embers of their fire are dying into only the fainest flickers of gold, the boy in question sleeping soundly against him, leaning against his shoulder as his chest rises and falls in a way that makes N want to draw him closer than he already is. It's the way Touya laces their fingers together so gently and delicately and carefully it sends a kind of warmth he had never once known flooding through him, sends heat to his cheeks and goosebumps rising up on light skin. It's a carefree hold shared with the twin sound of laughter that rings through clear mountain air, foreheads pressing against each other and mutual expressions of pure, genuine happiness, gratitude and relief and every new and exciting emotion there is, tears prickling the tiny corners of their eyes.
It's a grip so tight it feels as if their hands will never come apart again, Touya leaning into his chest and whispering only the most comforting of words against the fluttering pulse of his neck. It's sticky and sweaty and hot and pressed up against a shared sleeping bag, unnoticed in the midst of harsh intakes of breath and lost in a rhythm that he's still having trouble figuring out, back arched and little whines in his throat and Touya's name on his tongue.
It's an unspeakable form of trust, love and friendship and undying devotion wrapped up in one swift motion, sunbeams filtering through trees and Starly soaring through cloudless Sinnoh skies and Buneary ears poking out through tall patches of grass and everything beautiful and wondrous in this shared life of theirs, wrapped up in the way their hands join together, in the way Touya's thumb traces little circles against his palm and the way N smiles so brilliantly it's as if all this pain and hardship he had ever faced had only lead up to their two joined hands, just that and nothing more.
And this time, it's N who reaches for Touya's hand, grasps it carefully and studies it like he would an old and faded map, tracing the lines of his palm in a way that makes Touya peer up at him in question and awe. But then N smiles that N smile, serene and saccharine sweet, and he brings Touya's hand up to his lips to speak against his skin, meeting Touya's gaze with nothing but admiration and gratitude. "It's not a complaint. In fact, it feels quite nice. I'm certain that holding your hand is one of my favorite activities, so I can only hope that it makes you feel as warm as I do."
A beat passes before Touya closes his fingers around N's, stepping closer and smiling that uniquely Touya smile, boyish and sincere and everything that N's come to adore so much. "It does," he says, and then it's soft, warm lips pressed against his and fingers that N is positive must have been created just for the sake of fitting together.