“I suppose a goodnight kiss wouldn’t be appreciated?” Dean asked uncertainly several minutes later. They were lying in bed, side by side with that little, but undeniably present, space between them.
Caelan turned his head with a half-resigned, half-irritated sigh and offered Dean his mouth. He so obviously didn’t want to kiss, or in fact probably any kind of further contact, be it physical or emotional, that Dean didn’t want to impose himself on him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered sadly. “I just thought maybe knowing would help you come to terms with…everything. I’m sorry I got it so wrong.”
Caelan continued taking slow, deliberate breaths for a while before he answered, and when he finally spoke, his voice was hollow with carefully suppressed emotions.
“You meant well.” He sighed. “I can see that, just…” He rubbed his hand across his face, pressing his thumb and index finger into the corners of his eyes. “Let’s just never talk about it again, okay?”