Out of Touch

He's been gone ten minutes, no more, but there's a shroud of white hiding Daniel's ruined face now.

It hits home. He'll never see Daniel's face again.

Skin he's held cupped in the curve of his palm (another death, another goodbye), skin he's seen flushed with anger and passion, pale with shock, wet with sweat --

Skin he's never kissed, not really, skin he's never touched, not properly, skin he's never mapped by touch, only sight --

Too late.

Too fucking late

When he sees Daniel's face again, whole, clean, fucking glowing, he still can't touch it, so it's still too late.

Go to the short sequel: Renewal

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