9 | Touch Me

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"Oh, please, say to me, you'll let me be your man. And please, say to me, you'll let me hold your hand. You'll let me hold your hand. I want to hold your hand."

~ The Beatles, I Want to Hold Your Hand

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The last two weeks have been fairly good. Cillian and Sophie stuck to a routine and stayed in the house. She helped him through nightmares freak out free, and she's been teaching him to the best of her abilities on how to behave out in society without actually taking him out into society just yet. He's been doing great with eye contact and speaking up a tad more. In fact, he probably looks at her a little too much.

The only thing they haven't worked a ton on was physical touch. That was mainly Sophie's fault. He would never force himself on her so she had to be the one to go to him. There were small moments, such as her lightly touching his shoulder when she squeezed past him or her fingers grazing his when she handed him something. Other than that, there hasn't been much more work done.

Cillian knew this was a problem. No, not because he's not used to a kind touch, but because it was bad for the bond. By refusing to touch each other and Sophie subconsciously rejecting and ignoring the bond, the bond would take matters into its own hands, more or less.

Today, Sophie woke up sick. It was odd because she hadn't really left the house so it's not like she could have caught a bug from anywhere. Unbeknownst to her, it was that little detail she skimmed over in the booklet on lycanthrope.

Mates being separated makes them sick because mates are supposed to be together forever in an unbreakable bond. Not only in each other's presence, but together together. When intimacy of all kinds was lacking, it only made the pull stronger. Intimacy meant a lot of things; physical touch, emotional intimacy, and mental.

She shrugged it off for now, hoping it would pass. However, when she spotted Cillian with a red nose and puffy eyes by the back door, she knew this was no normal sickness.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and grumbled out, "You wanna tell me why we're sick right now?"

His gaze didn't leave the window, staring out into the woods. Through a stuffy nose, he replied, "acceptance."

"You wanna-" she paused, a sneeze escaping her before she could finish her sentence. She sighed, as if the sneeze took all the wind out of her, and continued. "You wanna elaborate on that?"

Briefly, his gaze faltered before he focused outside again. "Acceptance of the bond. It's trying to force us closer together."

"In what way?"

He shrugged, not wanting to make her uncomfortable by his answer. Instead, he focused on scanning the yard, antsy. 

"What are you looking at?"

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