#i cant wait to create the most horrific angst stuff later on

[a-vicious-faithless-angel]

"New habits of yours?" Woods asked, quietly watching the smaller male trace his fingers through the lines on his palms. Hackett didn't look up, nor did he stir or stop. "Don't mind it do ya? Haven't said anything since I've started." Hackett chuckled, his fingers stopping in the middle of his hand.

Woods tilted his head, a soft smile spread across his face. "I don't mind. Haven't thought about it too much." Noticing the way Hackett placed another finger into his palm, carefully gliding it up to his wrists.

"What made you start this?" Hackett gave a quick glance before he muttered, "Dunno, like it tho. Feels nice doesn't it?" Woods sighed, he wouldn't nor could he deny, it did feel good. It felt nice, felt safe. There was a lot of thoughts and emotions that poured into him when it happened he felt suddenly so unfamiliar with. A foggy mirror of unknown, it felt like another thing he should have remembered, but luck didn't seem to be his way.

"It feels nice." He mumbled in response. Hackett chuckled, and he knew why but the two sat there quietly anyway. His calloused fingers spread over healed scars. It was odd, it felt as though it should have brought a feeling of disgust. Someone tracing the same scars he inflicted on himself, but it never did.

Woods would watch the way Hackett's fingers traced his palms, traced carefully around scars outlining them. Sometimes he thought about doing the same, wondering how the smaller male would react to his hands tracing his scars with the same care he did. He never did it. He wasn't sure if he could, or if he'd ever be able too.

Slowly, Hackett's hand sunk back his palm, however this time, his fingers linked with his. Woods looked up, blue eyes meeting green ones. "is this another habit of yours?" He smiled, chuckling when Hackett scoffed.

"Want me to stop then?" "No." Woods quickly answers, this time being one to get laughed at. Mentally commenting on how desperate he seemed not to separate. Hackett leaned into Woods shoulder, his thumb rubbing gently.

"I don't know the last time I ever did this." Woods admitted, "Me either." "It...it feels weird doesn't it?" "A bit, but it's a comfortable weird." Woods didn't dare look up, wanting to bask in the sight of something that felt so foreign. Maybe he was afraid to look up, maybe if he did his eyes would be lying to him, time and time again.

Hackett chuckled weakly, tightening his grip, "Some sappy romantic shit huh?" Woods couldn't trap the laugh that left him, running his hand swiftly through his hair. "Two grown men holding hands in hell together is romantic enough for you Hackett?" "Dunno, could be a lot worse, could be 100 percent fuckin better."

"Wish it was better." Woods whispered, under his breath, he thought no one heard. "Maybe some day it will." Hackett responded plainly.

It was silent after that. Neither dared speak, not wanting to break what little they had for now. Sitting side by side, comfortably close, Hackett traced the veins on Woods hand. Woods watching, with yearning wrapped around him.

For something unknown.