Harrison complied with a gentle nod, reaching for the finger tips to pull them off one by one. Their nimble fingers brushed each other as they worked, mixing gloved and bare, but soon Syx’s ten long blue fingers were exposed. Without asking permission, Harrison laced his fingers in with Syx’s. He wove his moisturized and manicured hands in with Syx’s somewhat rougher ones, and held them up for the other blue man to see.
“Looks good doesn’t it?” he asks, looking up at Syx with a soft grin. “I’ve met a lot of people people in the last few years, but I never get tired of the sight of blue skin that isn’t my own.”
Syx rubbed his thumb over Harrison’s as he lightly squeezed the other blue man’s hands, a look of wonder on his face. In comparison to Harrison’s finely cared for hands his were rough with callouses and scars, but his nails were neatly trimmed and clean. Bringing their joined hands up he kissed each of Harrison’s knuckles, “Beautiful.”
Once more that slight blush crept across Harrison’s face. That was exactly the kind of move he would normally make, and goddamn, it was odd to be on the receiving end of the gesture. It was throwing him off to not be the one in control, to not be the one initiating the flirtatious comments and gestures. It made him feel oddly vulnerable and more exposed than even his bare hands.
“I try,” he says, attempting to play off his awkward blush with a joke. “It takes a lot of work to look this good.” Meanwhile he turns their joined hands over, making visible several old scars on the wrist that he can’t ignore. He traces one tiny line with the tip of his index finger. “There’s beauty in survival as well,” he finally says, looking up into Syx’s eyes, curious to see what he would find. “You’re not the only one of us with scars.”
Syx shivered almost violently as Harrison traced over the long healed self inflicted wounds. The skin had healed long ago, but they were still fresh in his mind. He jerked almost as if he would pull his hands away before going limp.
“Just keep fighting. When they knock you down, come back swinging,” he murmured, eyes nearly closed.
Harrison files that all away. Clearly the scars are not something he likes to have touched. Noted. He’s just glad Syx didn’t pull away completely.
“Our people are survivors,” Harrison said softly, once more leaning in to rub foreheads. He focused again on projecting feelings of safety and care. No matter what had happened to him, he’d never tried to hurt himself….. well, not like that. No, instead he had used meaningless sex and copious amounts of alcohol. “I almost jumped off a 26th floor balcony once. I was drunk, but I just couldn’t see a way out.”
Senses filled with caring and his fingers tangled, blue on blue, he found himself talking about it for the first time since he’d promised Minion he’d never do it again. He’d chased away every therapist Daddy had hired. Hid away from even the thought of it. Yet this man… Syx felt a long ago erected wall begin to crumble.
“I was fifteen,” he breathed out, barely a whisper.
RP backup 