Beast tapped his foot against the floor and cleared his throat. “I think your glasses should be ready by now. Do you wanna—”
Laurent sprung up. He hadn’t even realized that his hands had gotten so sweaty while he waited. “Yes, yes, please, let’s go and see!” He snorted at the silly word-game he accidentally formed.
Beast stood up as well, and his towering presence wasn’t oppressive anymore. When he touched Laurent’s back, it only made Laurent feel taken care of as they strolled into the store and approached the clerk. She accepted the payment from Beast, and gave them a plastic case and a paper with the referral to the eye doctor.
Laurent popped the case open, not even caring that his movements were quick and greedy, as if he were a beggar who hadn’t eaten for days and was now up for a feast. His fingers trembled and his heart thudded when he put on the glasses that were of course made of plastic.
He loved plastic.
Everything looked crisp, as if his eyes were brand new. As if he’d never been ill. As if he’d never feared complete darkness. He could spot every fibre of Beast’s black shirt, but he needed to see more than that and looked up the muscular chest, over the thick, heavily tattooed neck, to the face that was now like a book for him to read, scribbled all over with tiny letters over twisted, mangled skin. And between the rows of black, gray, and the pale color of Beast’s flesh, were eyes so bright they took Laurent’s breath away. Pale blue, human, and not monstrous at all. Beast’s true self was watching him somewhere from beyond the scars, a person deep within, whose ear has not been ripped off, and who just wanted him to be happy with the glasses. There was so much anticipation in that gaze, as if in this moment nothing else mattered to Beast.
Laurent reached up and trailed the writing along Beast`s jaw with his fingers. It was so small, and yet he could see it so well. Only now he realized all the writing over Beast’s skin was in Latin. Without thinking, he read a piece of it out loud. “Midway upon the journey of our life, I found myself within a forest dark. For the straightforward pathway has been lost.” It was a rough translation of the passage going down Beast’s neck, and yet it made him so exhilarated. Under the ink, and the left side of Beast’s face, which had more scaring, were features that belonged on a once handsome man. Laurent now understood why people stared, but when he looked into the inquisitive eyes that reflected his gaze, it was hard for him not to smile at the broad-jawed face, the strong nose, and the pronounced cheekbones. He had no hair on the eyebrow arches above his eyes.
Beast licked his lips, seeming nervous as he stared back at Laurent, not moving by an inch. “You speak Latin?” He cleared his throat. “So... you like your glasses?”
“I love them.” Laurent couldn’t take the tension anymore and wrapped his arms around Beast’s waist, hugging him tightly and not caring in the least what the other patrons would say.
Chapter 9 - Beast
Laurent’s arms settled around Beast’s midsection so firmly there was no way he could break free.
Not that he’d want to.
Watching Laurent briefly close his eyes behind the chunky black frames had Beast’s heart beating in a wild rhythm, but as the moment of surprise passed, he put his arms around Laurent too and slowly stroked the boy’s head. He had the softest, finest hair Beast had ever touched and smelled of pine so intensely Beast knew that if he buried his face in the wavy locks, he could pretend he was somewhere in the woods, holding a lover.
It’s been so long since anyone embraced him like this that he was somewhat awkward about it, a bit unsure whether they should be doing this, but the way Laurent clung to him really did not feel like the brief hugs Knight or his other brothers offered sometimes. It lasted, it was all warmth, and Laurent’s head lay firmly against Beast’s chest, as if he wished to hand himself over into Beast’s protection.
It was yet another surprise after the uninhibited way in which Laurent complimented Beast’s own scent, or that firm squeeze of hand in the optometrist's office. No one entwined fingers with people they weren’t interested in. Despite Laurent coming from some weird Mennonite sect that didn’t allow vision correction, such gestures had a universal significance.
And now Beast, a man who hadn’t touched anyone intimately in over ten years, was being hugged in public by a boy so pretty he should have been paid for wearing the clothes they picked up.
Beast stifled the moan of disappointment that formed in his chest when Laurent pulled away, still holding his hands on Beast’s sides.