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Summary
“I thought it was interesting you weren't scared— I guess this is just how you handle things, hm?”
It presses against his hair, fingers trailing to trace the shell of his ear. His chest feels heavier with it, the burden of his deformities comforting himself in his time of isolated need. It's gentle with him as it moves, the sound of it lowering itself, crooked and sharp knees pressing to the floorboards. His eyelids flutter, he wants to open them. His fear tells him he shouldn't let such a thing go unchecked.