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Nox wanted nothing more than return to being human.
Now, if you asked him why, he would say it was because he wanted to feel again; to feel sunshine upon his skin, to feel warmth tickle his bones, to feel wind tousle his hair and raindrops trickle down his face.
But if you looked at his previous life, it consisted of nothing one would find desirable: cold crept through his clothes, the chill sinking under his skin; the only hand he ever felt against his body was when it was being slugged across his face, and hunger constantly gnawed at his stomach, a neverending struggle to remain alive when the world and everyone in it wanted you dead.
Then, upon being a key, he was finally, finally surrounded by those that loved him — loved him like how a family was meant to: they taught him, they cared for him, they refused to abandon him, despite the many struggles he made them endure. Something he never could have dreamed of in his life as a human.
Yet even then, their touch as never enough — he couldn't even feel them; feel Violet's hand on his shoulder, Silver's upon his back, Rose's hand in his own. It was there, he knew they were touching him, he could feel the pressure whereupon metal met metal, but it was cold, even if every action was infused with tender care. No matter how much they loved him, tended to him — it would never be human. And humanity is what he craved.
Perhaps that was why he couldn't help himself but run fingers through Chase's hair upon meeting the blond, even when he was nothing but an eternally aggravating annoyance that had completely thrown a wrench in his and Vi's plans. When he had first grabbed his hand, shoved him against the wall, gently tilted his chin — it was warm, skin upon skin, flesh upon flesh. He had taken a taste of what touch really felt like, and soon he had become intoxicated on it.
"Buddy, Deacon's gonna be here soon, he's gonna flip if he sees us like this."
"Don't care."
It was near the end of the book, and Nox wasn't ready to let the sunlight against his skin go — they were snuggled up on some sort of lounging sofa, Nox didn't really care specifically what it was — Chase's body heavy against his chest as his head was tucked under his chin. One of Nox's hands was playing with golden curls, twirling them around his fingers, as the other ran his nails against the other boy's back, relishing in feeling the rise and falls of his boyfriend's breaths. Chase's arms were wrapped around his neck, one of his hands playing with ebony hair at the nape of Nox's neck.
"It's not like I want to get up, but we really should." The blond shifted his body, trying to lift from the couch, but the hand in his hair suddenly moved to wrap around his back, pressing him back against the black-haired boy's chest.
It would be over, and he'd go back to being metal, the sunlight once again leaving him in the cold. Violet could never understand his pain, his wanting, and he would be left to sulk on his own, in his isolated world. He wasn't ready.
"Oh my god, and I thought I was clingy," Chase muttered, yet not fighting back against Buddy's grasp. "Fine, you get two more minutes, Buddy. It's not like we're not gonna see each other in tomorrow's books, you know."
How long could they stay like this? Chase was going to find out, one way or another, what he truly was — how would he look at him then? Would he leave, taking his warmth with him, the only thing that once again made him feel human? He couldn't imagine his life past again, one without the sun in it, now that he knew how wonderful it was with the boy in his arms now in it.
Fingers found their way back into the strands of sunlight, Nox letting out a sigh as he curled the soft threads around them. That was a problem for another day, for a future Nox.
Right now, he would just enjoy this, enjoy Chase, enjoy them.