Chapter 15 

-Kirrill-

I’m all for platonic cuddles. They’re great and I think more people should do this kind of thing. But there’s one big problem with cuddling my crush, in my bed, whilst he sleeps. The problem is that he’s really fucking adorable and hugging him is so nice.

I’m really touch-starved, I know.

Crazily enough, I don’t manage to get back to sleep properly after that. I’m too busy overthinking my feelings for Wesley, so in the end I just pretend to sleep in case Wesley wakes up and sees me staring at him.

It’s a long and very boring night. 

But cuddling with Wesley is worth it.

When I feel him begin to stir, I deliberately continue pretending to sleep. I’ll let him get up, let him be the one to stop the hug. Because I sure as hell am not going to move away from him.

To my surprise though, Wesley makes no move to get up. I know that he’s awake, his breathing sounds different now from a moment ago, when he was asleep and not aware of the fact that we’re still in each other’s arms.

But now he’s breathing a little faster, his heart thundering in his chest loudly enough that I can feel it against my own chest. 

Fuck, what if I’m making him really uncomfortable? 

What if he isn’t moving away because he’s- because he’s scared or something? I don’t know much about what makes Wesley uncomfortable, and maybe this scenario right here is it?

I’m literally about to ‘wake up’ and move away, and then Wesley hugs me a little tighter, burying his face in my shoulder, leaving absolutely no space between us.

This no longer feels like a platonic cuddle.

And of course, I fucking love that.

Wesley stays as close to me as possible for a long time before his stomach grumbles and I decide that now is a good time for me to ‘wake up’, or else the poor guy will starve. 

Whilst I remind myself what waking up looks like, I feel Wesley squirm slightly in my arms as his stomach grumbles again, more loudly this time.

“Oi shut up!!!!” He whispers to his stomach.

I burst out laughing, right then and there.

Wesley freezes in my arms and I give up on pretending to be asleep, instead opening my eyes and staring at Wesley’s mortified expression.

“I’m so sorry for waking you up,” he whispers, his voice still scratchy with sleep.

He sounds nice.

Shaking my head, I decide to not bring any attention to how we’re still wrapped up in each other’s arms. “I woke up before your stomach decided to join the conversation, don’t worry. Fancy some breakfast, perchance?” I suggest, thinking that nonchalance is probably my best way out of this situation right now.

Pretend that the way we’ve been hugging each other is totally normal for two friends.

You know, bestie things.

Wesley nods quickly before slowly untangling himself from my arms…rather reluctantly, if I’m being honest, but this all started because he was cold, so it’s most likely just that he doesn’t want to lose that heat now.

He probably wasn’t enjoying the hug as much as I was.

—————

-Wesley-

Jesus fucking Christ, I need to get my shit together. I can’t believe Kirrill was awake and I was literally clinging to him, he probably thinks I’m so weird.

My feelings for him have got to be so obvious now.

I hope he doesn’t…distance himself because of this.

You mean like you did? No, this wouldn’t be the same. Me trying to not burden him with my feelings is different to him feeling too awkward to be around me, now that he most likely knows how I feel about him.

I really, really hope that that doesn’t happen.

Sitting down at the table with Kirrill as we eat, I stare intently at the table in front of me. Well, not technically the table, more like Kirrill’s knuckle tattoos, which are on the table, right in front of me.

“Why daisy chains?” I ask, slowly dragging my gaze up to meet Kirrill’s. I’d been avoiding it for a while, thankful that he hadn’t mentioned how we were in bed together a moment ago.

Kirrill stares at his own hands for a moment before resting his cheek on one palm. “They’re delicate. And pretty. And they- they hide the scars well,” he says more quietly, his gaze dropping from my own. Frowning slightly, I reach out, taking his left hand in both of mine, inspecting his knuckles.

“Holy shit, whoever did your tattoo was a fucking genius, I can barely even see them.”

I hadn’t noticed them before; the scars. It upsets me, knowing that Kirrill got a tattoo in order to cover his scars. But at the same time, there’s something so empowering about that. Control over what parts of yourself you show others.

Not letting others see the old pain hiding there.

He smiles gently, not moving to take his hand back from me. “Yeah, I went to this Scottish lady in Cambridge, because she’s really good at covering up other tattoos, so I thought…she might be able to cover this up too. And she helped me figure out how to place the design so that it covered and incorporated the scars better…she’s really damn good at her job,” he says with a light laugh.

Reluctantly relinquishing Kirrill’s hand, I go back to eating my food. “I’ve always wanted a tattoo, but I just can’t figure out what I’d get. It’s not like there’s a design I want with any actual meaning behind it, it’s more like…I’d get some shit like my favourite animal, or something dumb like a hamster eating an ice cream.”

Kirrill bursts out laughing again, the sound gorgeous to my ears. “Please get that tattooed on your forehead so that I can admire it every time I see you,” Kirrill huffs out, still laughing. Rolling my eyes, I sip at my water daintily. “No way in hell would I ever get it somewhere so visible. I’d want a tattoo like on my thigh or something; definitely not somewhere most people would see.”

“Not your knuckles then,” Kirrill laughs, tapping his fingers against the table. Smiling, I shake my head. “As much as they look great on you, I doubt I could pull that off.”

Kirrill leans forwards in his seat, a big grin on his lips. “I’m sure you could pull off anything you wanted; you’ve been blessed with good looks.”

What. The. Fuck. Did my crush actually just call me good-looking?! What the actual hell, this basically never happens to me.

Feeling my face warm slightly, I try to keep my expression perfectly neutral so that Kirrill can’t tell how embarrassed I am.

“Aw, did I embarrass you? I was just being honest,” he says teasingly, but there’s something in his eyes…something which tells me he is being serious right now. Or maybe that’s just my ever hopeful heart.

Kirrill’s phone rings, cutting me off my train of thought before I can properly delve down that particular rabbit hole. Clearing his throat, he frowns at the screen before picking up the phone. To my surprise, he doesn’t move anywhere else for the call, instead just sliding his chair back a fraction and crossing his legs.

He accepts the call but doesn’t say anything, a serious expression on his features. A few minutes of absolute silence slip by before Kirrill sighs, rubbing his forehead. “Who is this? Or are you going to keep playing mind games forever.”

A laugh tinkles through the receiver, loud enough that even I am able to distinguish it from across the table. Kirrill’s eyes widen and he suddenly stands up, meeting my eyes for a short moment before he hastily walks back to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

Who was that? A woman, by the sounds of it. Maybe his girlfriend. Ugh I’m so stupid, I’ve literally already had this conversation with Kirrill - he doesn’t have a girlfriend, he doesn’t have anyone, and he doesn’t care about relationships, they mean nothing to him.

Well, maybe that’s not exactly what he said, but he might as well have. I can’t let myself forget that no matter what, Kirrill will never like me back.