Work Text:
Hat. Scarf. Jacket. Gloves. For warmth, for his missing arm, and for when he feels more monster than human.
Glasses - in its case, in his pocket. It helps ignore the eyes. The judgement. The pity. But still there, in case he needs it.
The carnival. Overwhelming. Bright. Loud. Confusing. Too many lights, too many noises, too many people, not enough space.
In the midst, a beacon of warmth.
Warmth, big and strong. Warmth, his craving.
Warmth, his love.
Hiss. Silence. Contained. Ascension, the opposite direction of what made him a monster. Safe.
Eyes: shrunk to nothingness. Voices: only a small, warm, low rumble. Lights: hazy, far-away, untouchable.
Warmth, holding his hand. Warmth, gazing at him. Warmth, telling him that... he loves him?
Hush. Gulp. Tap. Shuffle. It is then that he realises - he loves him, too.
Rasp. Answer.
Warmth, pulling him in. Warmth, holding his scars. Warmth, asking if they can kiss.
Nod. Warmth, on his cheeks, on his forehead, on his lips.
Hush: perfect, calm, content. Words? Redundant.
Descend. Human. Monster. Both. Neither. Doesn't matter.
Warmth, his; him, warmth's.
Together. Enough.