eyes widen ever so imperceptibly, emotion swelling in narinder’s chest. his throat tightens, and he finds himself choking back tears that rise unbidden to well in his eyes, blurring his vision. he blinks hard, willing them to not fall: how could such a simple phrase bring him, of all people, to tears?

simple: ovtsa saw him.

a shuddering breath is drawn, catching in his throat, and narinder closes his eyes. he tries to steady himself, tries to repress these emo- tions, but oh! how they swell in his chest, a tumultuous wave that threatens to drown him! he is at the mercy of this nameless feeling that drags him down, smothering him, its fist tight around heart and throat alike.

“ i… ” the single syllable is lost amongst the emotion, caught in his throat and tasting of salt. ovtsa is looking at him, and she is seeing him: she is seeing past the facade and bravado, past the anger, past the deeply-hidden fear, and seeing him at the core of his being. without him removing his walls, without him knowing removing his masks, she sees him, and it is terrifying.

terrifying, but also: oh, how strange to be seen by someone, and for them to gently cradle his face! how strange for them to see him, and now toss him aside with disgust! how strange for her to see him, to know him, and to say it is alright, i am here without speaking a single syllable.

narinder leans into the the touch, eyes closed, trying to calm himself. he feels so very exposed, for lack of a better word: he is raw, all nerve-endings and electricity, and if not for her touch, he fears he may fall apart complete- ly, shattering into a million little shards. he places a hand over hers, holding it in place, jaw working as he swallows hard.

his tail flicks as he searches for the correct words to say, how to tell her that she put into a single sentence what he has been trying to say his entire life.

i just want to be loved.

as a child, he wanted to scream it from the highest mountain. he wanted to be loved, he wanted to belong, he wanted to have a home! and for a while, he did —

( but the ache of the stones thrown at his back, the tearing of metal against his skin, the hollowness of being unwanted, of being a monster )

— but it wasn’t enough. he felt weak, he felt unwanted, even when he was worshiped by so many people. it wasn’t the same.

it wasn’t a home.

but here, here, his face cradled in her hands, thumb rubbing his fur, he feels safe. he feels whole. he feels seen. he feels safe, for the first time in...in millennia.