The Man With The Gloves (mxmxmxm)

24. A foreign feeling

"I have often suffered, I have sometimes been wrong, but I have loved. It's me who lived and not a factitious being created by my pride and my boredom." (Alfred de Musset)

"We need to talk, little brat." 

At normal times, Fayez being Fayez, he would have thought of many inappropriate ways to answer Akhenaton's sudden declaration. 

He would have replied, for instance:

"There's nothing to talk about" - a classic, but effective one. 

"If you need to talk, there are professionals who can help you." - a bit harsh, maybe? Nah, it's fine.

"I need to sleep. Talking comes after." - yeah, well. He used to try that one with his mother, but it never worked quite well.

"It's the last time you're calling me a brat, pretty arsehole" - childish much? Ashur would definitively disapprove. 

Yes, Fayez was usually quite inventive, when it came to bratty comebacks.

Not today, though. There was too much going on in his mind to even think about a proper answer. 

Despite his mates' proximity, he was feeling scared and confused. He could barely focus on anything else than Zephyr still touching his bare hand. 

The touch felt as nice as it felt foreign. 

What's going on?

He should have been dead by now. 

After all, I killed Ana in mere seconds. 

Ana - 

He let out a tiny, half-choked cry at the thought of his childhood friend. 

Shit. Did they hear me?

He bit his finger, but it was too late, for the three men had already heard his wordless plea, one that made their eyes burn.

They moved quickly and smoothly. 

Akhenaton gently but forcefully took his abused finger out of his mouth. 

Zephyr helped him put his hand back in the glove, and Fayez felt the tiniest bit relieved. 

Ashur just hold him closer. 

Teamwork.

They understood. He hadn't said a thing, yet they understood what he needed. 

More noises slipped from his parted lips. 

The noises were light but the pain they carried was crushing.

He didn't cry, though. Not this time. 

None of the three men asked him again to explain himself. They just remained by his sides, offering him silent comfort. 

He couldn't believe it took him more than three centuries on Earth to discover how soothing a simple touch from a loved one could be.

Eventually, he managed to calm himself down, and sat on the bed, with his back against the wall. 

Sensing that he was about to tell them something important, his three mates took a seat in front of him, on the huge king-size bed. 

Where to start, though? Fayez thought, as his eyes met Zephyr's loving ones. 

Should he stop beating around the bush and just tell them about his hands?

My hands are supposed to be the deadliest weapons but here you are, Zeph. Alive.