It’s a simple solution, so simple it deflates him. Their touch is easy and intimate. Michael peeks up at them from behind his eyelashes. His hands are free now, but he doesn’t feel the relief he thought he would. His skin only itches for theirs again. It’s so much easier to reach for them than it is to pull away; his fingers drift up to their shoulder as though drawn magnetically.
He’s cruel for not having trusted them the way they trust him. It makes him hate himself more.