has; gn reader, reader has long-ish hair
VALEDICTION;; every farewell is fond, for he fears one may be the last (wc: 692)
Kuras stilled, his pen halting over the parchment and a blob of ink slowly spreading, saturating. He slid his gaze over to you, watching as you stood and languidly stretched your back. A few soft pops crackled in the otherwise silent room, and Kuras found his eyes drawn to the movement of the muscles in your arm and the scar from its separation still stark against your skin, the curve of your back, the slight tremor of your hands as you stretched as far as you could go. Before you could catch him looking, he quickly slid his gaze away from you and cleared his throat.
"It's late," he noted. He had already heard the muffled laughter of drunkards ambling down alleyways to their homes about an hour prior, and now the streets were silent and cold. Only a few taverns would still be open at this hour, which meant the only people who would be out would be trouble. "I could-"
But, of course, a frenzied knocking on the door to his clinic caught his attention. Both he and you stared at the door, shocked by a visit at such an early hour. The voice on the other side was panicked, words tumbling out in a mixture of worry and contrition. "Doctor, doctor, please! I know it's late but my son, he-"
"I'll be just a moment," Kuras interrupted, and the knocking fell silent. Despite his cool tone, Kuras pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling a soft sigh as he did so. Then, to you, he said, "Well, I could arrange for someone to accompany you."
"There's no need," You assured, taking your cloak from the chair it was draped over and swinging it on your shoulders. The golden threads lining the edge caught the candlelight, and Kuras wondered why, exactly, he had gotten you such an expensive cloak before he even knew you. "I can walk myself back to the Wet Wick just fine. I've gotten a lot smarter recently, you know."
That he did know. Someone as attracted to danger as yourself had to learn the ways of self defense quickly if you wanted to survive in this city. But as the time passed and you got stronger, you also became more important to him. It was a slow change, imperceptible as it happened but unbearable once he realized. The urge to assure your safety burned in his blood.
But arranging the escort would take time, and he had someone to take care of on the other side of the door. If he couldn't keep up a cool facade around others, then he had no hopes of fooling himself. So, instead, he stood to meet you and grabbed the edges or your cloak, far from your hands.
Startled like a deer, you pulled your bandaged hands closer to your chest, careful not to even risk touching him. Carefully, Kuras trailed his hands up to the clasp around your neck, carefully fastening the cloak and pulling the edges closer so it covered your body. Then, without warning, he reached behind your head and gently pulled up your hood.
With one hand, he moved the back of your hair out of the way, pulling the hood smoothly over your head. While he adjusted the edges, he carefully brushed a strand of hair away from your face, fingertips just barely grazing over your skin. He tried not to focus on how intensely your wide eyes watched him, how your mouth parted slightly in shock, or how you leaned into him, chasing after the ghost of his touch.
With his fingers still lightly gripping the edge of your hood, Kuras finally locked eyes with you. The flickering candlelight made his eyes look like warm honey, sweet and inviting. He smiled at you; you swallowed.
"Be well," Kuras said simply and stepped back for you to leave. More than a little flustered, you nodded and made a soft hum of acknowledgement before ducking out the back door of his clinic.
The night was cold, but your cloak was delightfully warm. You pulled it tighter around you and hurried home.
theartofmadeline
blakekathryn
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