#i feel like i'm so out of practice writing them ksdjf

[kharonion]

🎲 hehe 👀

KISS ROULETTE

30. A kiss to the palm of the hand. Picked Gail and Charon, and boy howdy. Even though I haven't written them in a hot minute, they're still so hecking emotional.

He’s a monster. He was made that way, into a weapon constantly set to the grindstone, sharpened and ready for whoever was to wield him—

“Bear. Are you okay?”

The quiet voice is booming in Charon’s ears. It jostles him like he’s asleep, and he blinks back into present to find himself sitting at the table still with broken-down gun in hand. Vaguely, he recalls parking himself there to clean his firearm, as he usually did. Though it never takes him long enough for Gail to express such a concern.

“Yes.” He answers curtly, but it’s quite obvious Gail in no way buys it.

They set their book aside and pat the space beside them on the couch. Green doe-eyes beckon him there. So, he sets everything down just as it is and sits where he’d been invited, with eyes cast down to his lap. Immediately, Gail directs all of their attention to him.

But, they don’t say anything. They never do. Never wanting to push the issue unnecessarily.

“How can you not see me as a monster?”

To Gail’s credit, they (mostly) maintain their composure, but he sees the sheen of tears swelling in their eyes. His hands begin to curl into fists… until a tiny set stops one of them.

“Charon,” they murmur so tender it makes his heart pound against his chest. Gail scoots closer, their arms pressing together, his hand still in that light grasp. “I never could.”

“Why?” He doesn’t intend it, but the question rumbles out as a frustrated growl. Because maybe he is frustrated.

Gail doesn’t flinch.

Instead, they hold his hand much more assuredly. Slowly uncurls his fingers, attentively tracing along each one of them. In a manner that still astounds him, they do not hesitate. Not even across the ragged edges of skin long obliterated or the patches of tendons and muscle rough with a sheer veil. And Gail watches every centimeter their fingers travel.

Finally, they look back up to him, wearing a doting smile, a few tears creeping down their cheeks.

“Because if you were one, you wouldn’t care.”

Where his heart was pounding mere moments before, it now feels as if it has stopped altogether. He’s looking into their eyes, so desperate to find… something. What shocks him the most is not knowing what he’s searching for.

… Was he searching for a reason to not believe them?

And then, Gail brings his hand to their lips. So gently presses them into the palm. 

Kissing a hand scarred by sin.

The air is pulled right out of his lungs. He feels as if he’s going to be sick. But he also yearns to lean into their space, to express what words cannot.

“You’re not a monster… not to me. Some of your pieces are broken, but that never makes you any less of a man. It doesn’t make you any less the man I love.”

Again, they kiss the palm of his hand… and then one of Gail’s thumbs is brushing his cheek. Wiping away the damp trails that’ve formed.

“My love, you treat me… better than I deserve.”

Gail shakes their head. They move even closer, craning up so their lips are so tantalizingly grazing his own. “I never can do it enough to make up for—”

Charon cuts them short with a kiss driven by the longing that’s been bubbling the entire time. He holds them tight, and yet as if Gail is made of glass—like the precious person they are.

“You do plenty, pchelka.”