[it feels a little odd, to be comforted by natsume of all people like this, but he closes his eyes and forces the habitual nerves that come from someone enacting something on him that he didn't agree to aside; it's his best friend, and any other day he'd crave something new, something interesting, from the other like this.
... it's just that the way natsume's nails slide through his short hair feels like claws ready to pry.]
no subject
... it's just that the way natsume's nails slide through his short hair feels like claws ready to pry.]
... What's there to talk about?