Hugs

The camp had been awfully quite today. Almost
too quiet. Although Maxwell enjoyed the presence of almost nobody here, it seemed almost lonely. He was sitting, nearly completely still on a log by the fire. Everyone was either asleep, or off collecting. Of course, nobody wanted Maxwell to join them, and he certainly didn't want to in the first place. He was perfectly happy letting his shadow clones go off and do work whilst he sat away from everyone else. After a moment of staring at the dying fire, he let out a sigh and stood up. He wasn't really going to do anything, he was just going to aimlessly wander around the camp and do.... Pretty much nothing. Reason being, there was nothing to do now. His clones had been sent off, everyone except the kids and a few others were sent off, and those who were at camp were asleep. What could he possibly do, other than wonder around camp and do a few minor chores?

"Mmm... Max...?" A small voice. It came from one of the tents. Maxwell turned, only to find Wilson standing by his tent flap, teary eyes and looking exhausted. He had half-tattered pyjamas on that he insisted on making out of silk and dyes from flowers. Maxwell had to admit, the man was pretty crafty when he wanted to be. "Higgsbury? What are you doing..?" The reason why he asked this was because not only had he been completely unaware Wilson was still asleep, but the fact he looked to be on the verge of tears made Maxwell, albeit very regrettably, quite worried. Wilson didn't answer, Instead he shuffled over, the tears making their way out of his eyes. Confused, Maxwell took a step back just in case. He wasn't a huge fan of being touched. It was unfamiliar and he almost felt trapped. This only made Wilson's tears stream more and a quiet whimpering became prominent. Great, now he felt bad.

He did a small motion of reaching out his arms and grabbing at the air. It was clear now that he wanted a hug. Maxwell was... Slightly uncomfortable to say the least. He wanted to tell him it was going to be alright, but it was evident that it wouldn't humour him enough. Why was he even crying in the first place? What even came over him to immediately get so clingy, so touchy so- "M-Max... Please..." Wilson had stopped the air-grabbing and had resorted to tucking his hands up like a rabbit and sniffling. Clearing his throat, Maxwell attempted an excuse. "I er. I'm sorry, Wilson, I can't..." It was quiet, and clear. It wasn't condescending, it was just a stern telling that he wouldn't- couldn't, hug him. As much as he wanted to, to get him to stop crying. Wilson seemed to dislike that, and went to sniffling and sobbing even more.

"W-why not..?" He sounded so needy and upset. Why was he so needy and upset? What even happened? "I just... I can't..." Maxwell trailed off. He really couldn't think of a good enough excuse. He was too embarrassed to tell the truth. He's supposed to be a king! Why was he so afraid of a stupid hug?! He wanted to, he wanted to prove he wasn't afraid, and that he was a magnificent and brave monarch, but.... He simply couldn't. He seemed not to have the bravery that he wanted to have. Well, he wasn't afraid of many things. It was his world after all. So why, if he could go through the throne, and the terrible things They said to him, why could he not bare a stupid, small hug?! It frustrated him how much he hated being touched, how unfamiliar and sensitive he was to it. Something so simple as touch.

Whilst Maxwell was busy having a battle with his mind, Wilson had shuffled closer to Maxwell. He hadn't touched him, as he didn't want to startle the other man away. Just being slightly closer to him was enough to silence his sobs a bit. The whole reason he was crying in the first place was over one of his stupid nightmares again. He seriously couldn't escape them, no matter what. He'd tried almost everything he could, and yet, he was still plagued by his awful, lucid nightmares. It was often he'd awake from them startled and afraid, yet he'd never felt so upset and scared before. He really needed a hug, or something to tell him it wasn't real, and everything is alright, and it just so happened that Maxwell was closer. He didn't care who it was, he just needed a hug.

"P-Please.... I w-want a hug...." He whispered quietly. Maxwell snapped out of his mind-crisis when he heard the smaller man's soft voice. He took a breath, and nodded slowly. "...Okay... Y-You can hug me... Just- Just be gentle about it..." He immediately regretted it, but almost felt a small sense of euphoria seeing Wilson's face light up a tad as he shuffled closer to give him a hug. After a moment, he felt warm arms press against him and around him, locking him snuggly next to Wilson. He froze. He could feel Wilson's tears soaking his suit, but that's not what bothered him the most. He felt trapped, like he did on the throne. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. He was trapped, and cold, and uncomfortable. He could hear Them, They were whispering, promising things he knew would never actually happen.

"W-Wilson.." He could barely speak, barley breathe. He couldn't think straight. He felt Wilson's little head press gently against his chest. He was.... Warm, and soft. He tried to focus on that. On how different the hug and the throne felt. He closed his eyes and only focused on the warmth and the comfort that the hug was. Very much unlike the throne when he thought about it. Albeit, Wilson was a lot stronger than Maxwell, he felt safe in his arms. Like at any moment he could ask him to let go and he'd oblige. Unlike Them. He felt the small pitter patter of Wilson's heart. It was odd to feel another human heart again. Wilson was... Alive. Alive, and warm, and cosy. He felt safer. He felt happier. He felt warm. He didn't feel trapped or hurt or cold anymore. Gradually, he hugged Wilson back. He felt a wave of warmth wash over him when he heard Wilson gently hum with comfort. He.... Really like this... A lot more that he first thought. It was pleasant, and albeit unfamiliar, he wanted more. He never wanted it to end. Everything felt like it had disappeared except from him and Wilson.

After a couple of minutes, which felt way too short for Maxwell, Wilson shuffled away. "Thank you, Maxwell..." He seemed flushed. Almost like now that he had gained his senses back, he regretted it. Maxwell sure didn't, even if he'd say he did. "Uh, yeah, er- You're welcome." He said awkwardly. He didn't have the guts to ask if they could hug again. Despite how much he really wanted to. It was strange how much he liked that hug. How loved it made him feel again. He missed that feeling, and he knew Wilson did as well. He was all alone in that small house of his. He probably hadn't had a good hug in a while as well.

After a moment or two, they bid their farewells. Wilson felt embarrassed, and yet again, he felt butterflies in his stomach. As if Maxwell made him feel special. He couldn't deny how nice the hug was, but he couldn't believe that Maxwell actually let that happen. That he hugged back and made Wilson happy. Maxwell fully acknowledged how nice that felt. How loved he felt and how Wilson made him more able to be touched, to be hugged. It was like he reminded him to focus only on the positives, when it seemed like there was none. Nevertheless, he wished for a hug with him again one day.