K smells like tobacco smoke and lack of sleep, sweat and stress. Jesus buries his face against K's neck anyway, unable to help holding onto him tight the moment he feels K's arm go around him.

"I've got stitches on my back," upper and lower. There's no safe way to hold onto him, is what he means, but he presses closer to K to try to get him to try anyway.

"I've missed you so much."