"Aren't you scared of being close to me?" The words left Cyril's mouth like a plea for forgiveness, as if the mere fact Elijah stood beside him was a curse onto the other. They had only known each other for about a month, of course, and even though within that time they had grown close, there was still a lingering fear in the back of Cyril's head.
It was routine by now to him, he started accepting someone into his life and as if a timer ran out they disappeared, be it through death or simply turning on him. He didn't accept help, he didn't accept friends, and he still had an urge to fight Elijah to leave his side, though he realized he wouldn't shake that man that easily.
"Why would I be scared of you?"
The soft chuckle in Elijah's words made Cyril's heart skip a beat, sucking in a breath. He wasn't sure how to say it, how to express his fears. He couldn't admit to what scared him so deeply. He knew there was an expectation to just grin and bear it, even if he never really grinned.
"What if... Something happens to you? People always die when they close to me... Doesn't that worry you?"
"Well are you the one killing them?"
The question made Cyril stall, as if for the first time in his life someone considered the full picture, the life he had been forced to live.
"Of... Of course not. I'd never kill them- I wouldn't-" His expression and voice were still flat but there was almost a panic to his movements, as if trying to justify himself to more than just the man in front of him. "It's not me doing it, you, you have to believe me. I couldn't-"
“Well, I believe you.”
Their hands interlocked, Elijah gently traced his thumb over Cyril’s hand, memorizing each dip and scar.
“I’ll always believe you.”
A silence brushed over them as Cyril felt Elijah's hands in his. Elijah's cold hands. His fingers shook, his gaze softening as he took a deep breath.
"Are you cold?" He asked quietly.
"I think I'm warm enough now."