*heavily debates* … ✯

britishhsdetectivehakuba:

britishhsdetectivehakuba:

Hakuba’s gloved knuckles wrapped against the door. It made a hallow knocking sound, at least to his own ears. It hadn’t been that loud either, he was hesitant, standing there with his fist hovering inches from the door for what felt like hours, but had probably only been minuets. His mother had come to town to visit, and he’d been happy about that, he missed his mother.

What he didn’t miss was the fighting.

He let his hand fall to his side, his other rising to ball into a fist in his suit sleeve. When his mother came to Japan, which wasn’t very often, or his father came to London – which was even less – his parents tried not to fight in front of him. They know how it made him feel. He knew they were never going to get back together, and he never acted otherwise, he never tried to make them love each other again.

That didn’t make it hurt any less.

The yelling had gotten loud, so loud he could hear it in his bedroom, his safe place; the place where nothing was supposed to touch him. He’d tried going for a walk in the garden, but the sound of doors slamming and shouts had drawn him away from the house, and towards the house of his classmate.

Normally when he got anxious like this, his mysophobia would get worse and he’d spend a few hours washing his hands, and then a few more in the shower. But for some reason today was the opposite. Instead of wanting to hide from the world, from everything; he wanted to be touched. He wanted to be held, for someone to hold his shaking body as he cried. He wanted to be weak, just for a few moments.

He was pulled from his thoughts as the door before him opened. He took a step back, a little bit surprised, and he could already feel his shoulder starting to shake, the tears welling up in his eyes. He let his head fall forward, the deerstalker casting a shadow over his face as he waited for the other to speak.

Hakuba could tell that he’d caught the other teen off guard. He played with the sleeves of his dress shirt and stared down at his hands. He could tell his mysophobia had been getting worse. The amount of sores and blisters on his hands had risen from all the washing he’d done. He clenched his hands closed, suddenly ashamed of them, of himself. As much as he boated about the control he had in his life, he really had none what-so-ever. 

Hakuba closed his eyes and let out a breath before startling as he felt the other shift and wrap his arms around him. He opened his eyes and looked up at the other over the tip of his hat before reaching up to take it off and letting it fall onto the couch beside him. He shifted so he was more sideways then facing the front and laid his head on Kuroba’s shoulder, eyes fluttering closed once again.

He’d forgotten how nice it was to be held. The feeling of arms wrapped around him, like a warm blanket. It wasn’t that he didn’t like being touched or held, but there were just so many things that could transferred by contact. Like how it only took sharing a hat to transfer lice to one another. Or how a rash could be exchanged with a touch, if it was a contagious rash.

There were so many things out there, it made him shiver. He shifted a bit closer, so not even air was between the places their bodies touched. 

He was suddenly really tired. The crying and the emotions he’d let – no, not let, was forced to – roam free, making his body heavy, his eyes burning with the need to sleep. He could also feel a headache starting to form in the back of his head, n ear the base of the skull. He’d forgotten how tiring feeling could be too. He wanted to curl up, lay his head in Kuroba’s lap and sleep. He knew he was already pushing things so he let that thought wither away.

“Thank you.” It was a sleepy murmur. “I’m sorry for disturbing you so late.” He was trying to force himself awake, he didn’t want to fall asleep like this. If he woke up, and the need to be held was gone, and Kuroba was still holding him, he’d flip. Kuroba had been kind enough to do this for him, he didn’t want to flip out on him; he had to stay awake.