It happens so quickly -- and for years, years, Corrigan will hate himself for not acting sooner, for not standing and stepping in to guide the roughhousing away from his still-fragile, still-fearful mate. One good day doesn't make up for the thousand bad ones that preceded it. An afternoon of kindness can't undo the cruelty that's been Kurt's guardian and teacher their entire life.
As long as he lives, Corrigan will remember the flood of terror that shot through his mate's scent, the way they looked kneeling on the ground, curled in on themselves, apologizing over and over and reaching out to try and clean up glass with their shaking hands. As long as he lives, there's a part of him that will never forgive himself for letting that happen.
He acts quickly -- much quicker than the stricken Benji, who's clutching his hand to his chest, than Kai, who's staring in confusion and horror, than Leo, who's turned to Naseer to wordlessly demand answers for Kurt's reaction. Quicker than Naseer, who Corrigan knows remembers a version of this fear, old and buried, a childhood terror of punishment that his Alpha has spent years trying to erase. Now it's back, captured in the way Kurt’s hands are trying to scoop up the bits of glass, the way they're angled away from the pack, shoulders braced, head down. Waiting for the violence, the blow.
It doesn't come. It'll never come again. Corrigan wants to say it, scream it, seal it in the blood of whoever did this to his mate. Instead, he reaches out, hands catching Kurt's and holding them firmly, away from the glass. "Beloved, don't," he says, a soft kind of agony in his voice. "You'll hurt yourself. Don't."
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Date: 2023-06-21 02:53 am (UTC)As long as he lives, Corrigan will remember the flood of terror that shot through his mate's scent, the way they looked kneeling on the ground, curled in on themselves, apologizing over and over and reaching out to try and clean up glass with their shaking hands. As long as he lives, there's a part of him that will never forgive himself for letting that happen.
He acts quickly -- much quicker than the stricken Benji, who's clutching his hand to his chest, than Kai, who's staring in confusion and horror, than Leo, who's turned to Naseer to wordlessly demand answers for Kurt's reaction. Quicker than Naseer, who Corrigan knows remembers a version of this fear, old and buried, a childhood terror of punishment that his Alpha has spent years trying to erase. Now it's back, captured in the way Kurt’s hands are trying to scoop up the bits of glass, the way they're angled away from the pack, shoulders braced, head down. Waiting for the violence, the blow.
It doesn't come. It'll never come again. Corrigan wants to say it, scream it, seal it in the blood of whoever did this to his mate. Instead, he reaches out, hands catching Kurt's and holding them firmly, away from the glass. "Beloved, don't," he says, a soft kind of agony in his voice. "You'll hurt yourself. Don't."