Fics like leather gloves and dead flowers

Shion's touch is deadly - literally. Shion's skin cannot come in direct contact with anyone else's, or the other would die. Nezumi, new to the small town where Shion lives, does not know that, and while Nezumi usually keeps his distance from people, Shion happens to be the exception. Preview: When Nezumi reaches out to take the toothbrush, of course their fingers do not touch. Instead, Nezumi’s skin grazes Shion’s glove, and Shion pretends he can feel it, the warmth that his mother told him resulted in the contact of skin-against-skin. He wonders if Nezumi’s skin is warm too, or if it is like his voice, cool and smooth. Maybe his fingers are soft, even though they share the hue of hard porcelain. “Thanks,” Nezumi murmurs, and Shion likes the way his gratitude comes grudgingly, likes that he has to earn it, likes that it only seems more genuine because of this. “You’re welcome, Nezumi,” Shion says. He likes saying Nezumi’s name. The syllables are strange and secretive on his tongue. Jumble around his lips like a mystery in themselves. Shion likes that this man has secrets. In a town where Shion knows everyone, it is nice to know he is no longer the only one with something to hide.

Fics like leather gloves and dead flowers

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