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And back to this. NOV felt weary of the constant refusal and pride, and hurt, and more than a little frustrated. His rattle grated in his ears—Users, he wish he could turn the noise off! But more than that, he wished that he would stop getting written off.

“Why?” he asked. His brow furrowed as he realized the question had actually come out of his mouth, but he continued. “Why did we never hug?”

But he was smart enough to know that any answer he gave couldn’t be justified. To be purposefully cruel is often not justified in any manner, except the one committing the offense. Worthless pride. But it was what he had. “What?”

Oh.

Oh.

NOV’s rattle turned into something more feral—quiet, the growl of a predator—as his expression cooled. It was an expression he wore rarely, the frighteningly serious look he had gotten when he had stated that no one would be endangering my friends.

He stood. ”… I understand.”

What he could glimpse from the corner of his eye forced his face to stay away. He couldn’t even look at him. Not straight out. He knew why he was standing at that point. iTunes assumed that either NOV was ready to give him some hell, or if he wasn’t, that he was going to leave before he could. And somehow he was fine with it all turning out that way. 

“Well, thanks for the donuts.”