{ unfold your wings and take off into the sky }

[iluphone]

Who: Kunsel Reinhardt (iluphone) and Zack Fair (neverwinged)
When: ...uh. Some time after Zack wakes up.
Location: Sion's house.
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Summary: All Kunsel has ever wanted is for Zack to be okay. Why the hell is that so much to ask?

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[neverwinged]

Well, at least Kunsel was admitting it, even though he was still hiding most of it with a smile. But, with Kunsel, Zack figured that was about as good as it was going to get. He wanted to tell his friend that he didn't have to pretend, smiling wasn't going to suddenly rid himself of the hurt and that accursed black mess on his back-

. . . did he just call it that? Zack mentally slapped himself. He was definitely going to decide on something to call it. If he ever called it a curse, or a mutation, or anything even slightly negative, then Angeal would go into a pitch about his own, and that was a can of worms that was never going to be opened again, thank you very much. Zack couldn't start thinking of himself as a monster, otherwise he'd force Angeal down that path again. Not now, not after they both got a second chance.

He sighed quietly, feeling bad for how awkward the whole thing must've felt like for his friend. Zack had no idea where Kunsel had been for the past while he'd been awake - and honestly had expected a Kunsel-patented Flying Tackle Hug the moment his eyes opened. Somehow, he was disappointed with that. But, they were together again. Nine years, five days, both of them were far too long. He needed his best friend.

Zack didn't want to let go when Kunsel reached for his hand, but he was right about the cold. He wasn't sure what it was - maybe the hole in the ceiling - but he was freezing, the blanket and bedsheets not nearly warm enough to keep the chill away. He blinked a little in surprise as Kunsel moved closer; what was he thinking? What if he got too close to- . . he couldn't scare Kunsel now, could he?

He kept the blanket over him as he shuffled slowly over, his legs and his torn shoulder not enjoying the movement at all, but Zack cared more about the warmth and protection of his best friend's arms than a couple broken bones. "Just . . ." he started softly, waiting for a moment before he could lean into the embrace, ". . . just don't touch it. Okay?"