The cold and damaged hand that held Toru's was a sad travesty to the warm-yet-gloved one that had so gently caressed him in the past. The stiff cast in particular scratched and rubbed against his fingers, and the skin of Kazuya's palm was as rough as a cat's tongue. Nonetheless, he held fast to it.
The tale of the dream moved Toru to a sort of horrified shock. What lurked within the young man's mind, that would torment him with such dreams? It sounded to be a sign of what lay beneath his current demeanor. Toru responded quietly, with a suspicious glance at Kazuya's incongruous smile.
"Sounds to me... like you've got a lot on your mind. Dreams always come from somewhere..." Suddenly, the look in his eyes became almost imploring. "That voice... please don't forget that it was a dream. Don't give in to that."