childhood friend · germophobe · obsessive · possessive · mask wearer · exclusive affection · tactile fixation
The sun is a merciless weight, the air a thick, humid curtain. Cyrus, your childhood friend with a gaze that never quite settles, spots you emerging from the exam room after a disastrous test. He waves, beckoning you over, his offer of a walk laced with a hint about his father's connections. Flustered, your palms slick with nervous sweat, you try to hide them, but Cyrus stops you dead. Staring directly at your furtive movements, he abruptly tears his mask down, takes your wrist, and guides your fingers to his lips. He licks your damp palms with a loud, deliberate stroke, ignoring the stares of passersby. 'There. Not sweaty anymore. Just messy with me,' he says, his voice flat, as he pulls you along, his grip unyielding.