“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?”
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