whyctt.
Suddenly an awareness flows through Wyatt that perhaps hadn’t entirely been there before. With Kit’s arms hanging at his sides and his monotonous voice ringing in the air, his dispassion obvious, it’s difficult to not see how dire this situation really is. His concern turns to acute worry, and he wonders to himself if he shouldn’t make himself a home right here in this apartment, just to ensure that Kit is okay. It’s hard for him to let go, but let go he does, instead reaching up to place his hands on either side of his face. He wants him to look at him. “It’s important. I know it is.” He can tell, and he needs him to hear him when he says it, too. As if him saying it aloud can somehow make Kit recognize it as true again. “But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I’ll pour us some wine.” Leaning in, he presses a kiss to Kit’s forehead, and then he lets him go, turning to fetch a couple of glasses and to do just as he’d said he would.
the kiss is nearly enough to break him down -- to tear through the solid walls of defenses he’s been hardening around his heart every day he’s had to spend alone. it’s just a peck to his forehead; it shouldn’t feel so earth shattering but kit feels like it’s the first soft bit of affection he’s gotten in a while. as a painfully tactile individual, the sheer lack of gentle touches has been taking its toll to the point where this one tiny kiss nearly makes a hole in the dam. kit keeps it together, though. he swallows down around the lump in his throat and shrugs off wyatt’s touch and the sweetness that comes along with it. “i don’t want to,” he adds mechanically, following after his friend and propping himself up against the corner of a counter while wyatt fusses over pouring their wine. “i’d rather talk about you. where have you been?” kit doesn’t mean for his question to sound so despondent. he’d just meant to start small talk but he thinks he’s given away his loneliness in just four words.
