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Kevin had his nervous habits straightened out when he was in the nest, all of his outward tells made clear, then hidden by the Master's careful presentation standards. He doesn't chew, pick, or fidget. He knows to maintain eye contact, not look around too much, and he knows to keep his face smooth and controlled. He knows that.
Opening the door in the guest room in Abby's house, he didn't fidget, but he felt the itch in his fingers before he reached for the doorknob. He had been to see Jean already, twice now. Once with Neil and Andrew, once with Thea, yesterday. She had flown in when she heard the news and had bullied her way into the guest room.
She left with a monotone comment about losing Kevin's number.
Kevin's hand rested on the handle. He knows what he is going to find behind the door, but the restless feeling in his chest won't subside. He keeps that restless feeling on the inside.
He wants a drink.
He isnt going to drink till after, he has to talk to Jean first.
Taking a deep breath and several more seconds, he finally opens the door and steps inside. The guest room looks just the same as yesterday; the curtains were pulled snugly shut, but they couldn't block all of the light from coming in. Jean sat on the right side of the bed. He is still looking at the curtain on the window, and the dark bruises across his face haven't faded at all. He has bandages poking out of the loose shirt, and his hands lie across one another in his lap. Kevin knows he has been up and down to the bathroom at least a few times, but if he doesn't think about it, it's as if time has stopped in this room.
He doesn't look up when Kevin walks in.
"Hey." Kevin begins, but the words die in his throat. He is notorious for saying things no one wants to hear, but in this moment, he can't seem to. Nothing sounds right.
Jean turns his head and looks at him expectantly. The permanent scowl Jean seems to wear is worsened by the dark bruising.
Kevin's words fail; suddenly, his tongue feels heavy, and his jaw is sinched tight. His fingers itch. He holds Jean's gaze, unable to say what he came to say. He stands halfway between the door and the bed, but his feet feel glued in place. The ache in his chest is too much; he wants to reach out.
He knows his hands are painful like Riko's, even if they weren't as heavy. Thea had told him as much, and Jean reacted outwardly when Kevin touched him as well.
"What is it, Kevin?" Jean's voice was a bit hoarse, like he hadn't spoken in many hours. He probably hasn't. Abby was probably the only other person in here since yesterday.
Kevin lowered his eyes to the bed, then he unsticks his feet and walks around to the other side. Slowly, he lowers himself until he is sitting, then leans his weight back on the headboard. He keeps his eyes low, and his eyes settle on Jean's hands; they sit almost gracefully in place on his lap.
Kevin does not speak again, and neither does Jean.
The ache in Kevin's chest does not go away, but some part of him is soothed by the quiet proximity. The heavy silence soothes into something manageable once he is fully settled.
After many long moments of quiet, Jean lifts one hand from the other and gently settles it on the bed. He extends his pinky so it brushes Kevin's, soft enough that he almost doesn't feel it. Kevin takes it for an invitation and gently links their fingers together.
Jean's hands are cold, but his crooked fingers settle between Kevin's. Familiar.
Painful.
He understands now.
He doesn't pull away. The itch in his fingers has vanished, and the need to control his face has gone away. His jaw is still locked tight, and his tongue feels too big, but he does not need to speak. He closes his eyes and rests his head back on the headboard.
Just for now, this is all there is. Kevin is going to hold on for as long as he can.