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Owen had never been good at caring for others. He had been too isolated to learn, and no one around him would have given him the time of day. Even with Louis, Owen loved him with all he had and he was sure it wasn't enough.
Owen didn't anticipate ever opening himself up to anyone else. Even after meeting the doctor, he never thought he would get attached. Sometimes it felt like a betrayal, but then Legundo would look down at him with a kindness that rivaled Louis, and Owen knew he wasn't going to let go.
That didn't mean it was easy.
It wasn't. Not in any sense of the word.
Legundo didn't want the gift, no matter how much Owen knew it would ease the pain he was battling constantly. He had been tempted to take the choice out of Legundo's hands entirely, but he held back.
He could imagine the look of horror on Legundo's face if he gave in to his impulses. He didn't think he could stand to see that directed at him. Not when this was his second chance to get it right.
Owen wasn't good at caring for people. He knew this.
But with Legs letting him massage his aching muscles, sore from overworking, Owen thinks he might at least be better than nothing.
It makes something tighten in his chest when Legundo leans into his hands, not sparing a glance towards the awful scars covering every inch of Owen's bare skin.
It almost makes Owen want to flinch away for him, but he doesn't dare move. Even the thought of moving away from this rare moment of peace between them makes him feel nauseous. If Owen pulled back, there was no doubt in his mind that Legundo would feel responsible for his discomfort.
If Legs wasn't afraid of his scars, then Owen wouldn't let them ruin this.
“You're thinking hard about something,” Legundo looks over at him, his voice lowered, as if speaking any louder would shatter the moment. “Do you want to stop?”
Owen scowls, a small frown pulling at his lips. “I'm fine. You're the one with a sore body, not me.”
Legundo huffs. “Maybe so, but I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”
Owen doesn't know how to respond to that sort of care, so he stays silent. He moves his hands up and down Legundo's calf, pressing along the muscle.
The low, contented sigh that escapes Legundo when he massages the tender area makes the inklings of discomfort worth it. It helps that Legs doesn't shy away from Owen despite the real harm that Owen could cause if he wanted to.
That sort of trust sends a shiver down his spine.
Carefully, Owen pushes his thumb against Legundo's knee, gentle as he can manage. He pauses at a sharp intake of breath from Legs, but continues when Legundo lets it out shakily.
The silence that settles between them is comfortable, the only noise being the small sounds Legundo makes as Owen massages his bad leg.
It's softer than Owen is used to. Softer than he had allowed himself to be in a long time.
Gradually, with the tension easing from the doctor's frame, Owen's discomfort leaves with it. Despite the small part of him that still wants to lash out, Owen allows himself to slip into the comfortable repetition of tending to Legs’ aches and pains.
Words aren't needed when Owen can see the fondness and gratitude clear as day on Legundo's face. The openness of his expression manages to make him look younger, almost. Less haunted.
Owen wonders in the safety of his own mind if he looks the same when Legundo takes care of him. The thought sends an instinctive pang of anger through him, at the idea of being so vulnerable, but Owen manages to push it away.
He didn't need to be angry. Not with Legundo.
Not when the man would chase after him no matter how twisted his emotions got.
Vulnerability was hard, but it was made easier when Legundo was so willing to put trust in Owen with his own disability.
There was an understanding there. An understanding that they were both fractured, and because of that they didn't need to shy away from each other's jagged edges.
Owen would never admit out loud how much that warmed something inside of him.
Legundo sighs again. “Thank you for doing this, Owen. I know you don't like touch.”
I don't mind it so much when it's with you, Owen doesn't say. It's the truth, but it's more honest than Owen knows how to be.
Instead, he nods. “I'm working on it, you know.”
“I know.” Legundo's eyes crease at the edges when he smiles, the lines in his face framing his features. “I know you're working hard. You've made a lot of progress.”
Owen knows that, were it still possible, he would be blushing. Legundo had always had a kind word to say to him, but Owen found himself unprepared for them anyway.
It wasn't the words themselves that got to him. He knew better than most that words were shallow.
No, it was the pride behind them that made Owen fluster.
Owen could tell from his tone alone that Legs was just as proud of his progress as Owen himself was, if not more so. He wasn't sure what to do with it.
Legundo must sense this, because he lets the conversation drop, leaning into the space by Owen's side. After a few seconds of hesitation, Owen settles as well, letting himself rest his head on Legs’ shoulder.
Owen glances over at Legundo, taking in his relaxed posture. Completely at ease beside him. It makes his chest tighten again, but not with any kind of dread or frustration.
Owen didn't know how to care for people, and he wasn't good at it either.
But with Legundo, in this moment, Owen thinks he may be able to figure it out. It helps that, no matter how long it takes, Owen knew one thing wouldn't change.
Legundo wasn't going anywhere.