He steps into that embrace immediately, without a word, and just buries his face against K's shoulder. For a moment he ignores the people around them and just has this: has K back.
It doesn't make losing Carver any easier, but it is one less grief to carry.
K is warm, and solid, and he tucks him in close and folds his coat around him.
After that it's his arm, and he holds on; he suspects he knows what this is about already. Vrenille called him, shell-shocked and fresh, and K has been waiting for Jesus. He'd wait much longer than this.
"Let's walk," he says. Walking helps, being busy helps. He has nowhere to scavenge now, everywhere he might have stolen from reminds him of Carver so he just hasn't.
He takes K's hand and walks with him, holding onto him. "How are you?"
K is quick to settle their palms together even if his grip is light, his fingers gentle. He runs his thumb along the tendons of Jesus's, idle and comforting for them both.
"Settling," he decides on instead of any of the other things he could say. The snug leather collar with its tamper proof buckle is still sitting around his neck, always. "I don't know if I've regained everything or just... accepted that it's happening now, so it's easier."
"It took me a little while, too. To accept this." He tips his head against K's shoulder as they stand and wait for a traffic light to change. This feels good. So little feels good like this does.
"It was Carver who got me thinking differently. When I met him I suggested we work together to find a way home. He said he was happier here, where he wasn't starving. Where he wasn't going to be eaten alive if he went into the wrong house."
"He helped. It was you and Vrenille and Rosita who really changed my mind though. I've never had people I loved before, not since I was little. Having that here...it's a hard thing to want to leave." So he made a little home for himself and he's letting himself enjoy it while he can.
He breathes out, letting that statement settle on his shoulders, in his chest. Letting it warm where and what it will.
When the light turns, he waits for Jesus to straighten back up before he steps out.
"There was this woman in Los Angeles that told me, once, that people move on to their next lives when they've learned all they need to learn in this one," he says, slowly.
"She believed it was selfish to want to keep them here with us, when what they really needed was their next step."
"I think she's right," Jesus admits. "But I also think that if you had asked me when I first got here if I was ready to move on to my next step I would have said yes. But I would have been wrong. I've needed to be here, to learn all this. About...being with people. Having family. Loving people. I'm glad I got to learn this now."
"They're things I never would have got to do back home. There were no men to love, not the way I-" Love you. He doesn't want to crowd K though, with his emotions. Not when they're still relearning each other.
"And my best friend here, Rosita? She lived in another community. We never got to spend much time together back home. So I didn't have that part of my family either."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
un: Leonard Koan
un: KD6-3.7
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Yes.
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Are you alright?
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...No. It's just...been a hard month.
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Where are you?
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And he is there, wrapped up against the cold, full of taut energy.
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He takes one look at Jesus, though, and holds an arm out to him. That much, anyway, is easy.
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It doesn't make losing Carver any easier, but it is one less grief to carry.
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After that it's his arm, and he holds on; he suspects he knows what this is about already. Vrenille called him, shell-shocked and fresh, and K has been waiting for Jesus. He'd wait much longer than this.
He waits now, too.
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As best he can. Muddling on, as best he can.
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"Or walk? Or both?" He runs his fingertips lightly over Jesus's shoulders, letting him decide.
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He takes K's hand and walks with him, holding onto him. "How are you?"
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"Settling," he decides on instead of any of the other things he could say. The snug leather collar with its tamper proof buckle is still sitting around his neck, always. "I don't know if I've regained everything or just... accepted that it's happening now, so it's easier."
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"It was Carver who got me thinking differently. When I met him I suggested we work together to find a way home. He said he was happier here, where he wasn't starving. Where he wasn't going to be eaten alive if he went into the wrong house."
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"They're good reasons to make this place a new home." Not always, though, good enough for everyone. "Did he change your mind enough?"
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When the light turns, he waits for Jesus to straighten back up before he steps out.
"There was this woman in Los Angeles that told me, once, that people move on to their next lives when they've learned all they need to learn in this one," he says, slowly.
"She believed it was selfish to want to keep them here with us, when what they really needed was their next step."
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"Learning. Loving."
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"And my best friend here, Rosita? She lived in another community. We never got to spend much time together back home. So I didn't have that part of my family either."
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