All was silent for a while as Azrael stared at the rabbit who still hadn't turned around to face him yet. Pavel's shoulders shivered slightly as he ran his fingers through his loose, knotted hair that stuck to his wet back. His voice was quiet, so quiet that a human may not have heard him. "It's… it is alright. I was just overwhelmed. That's all."
Azrael's breath shuddered as he tried his best to suppress what he was feeling, to mitigate the risk his instincts could put Pavel in. Staring at him anxiously, Azrael waited for him to face him again, Pavel's body still once more.
The first movement Pavel made was his ears. They sprung up straight from his head and swivelled back, seemingly meaning Pavel was trying to listen to what Azrael was doing, even though he was just standing there. They twitched nervously as they were met with near silence, setting him on edge even more. It didn't take much to assume that the way Azrael was acting was unpleasant for Pavel to deal with but he didn't know what else to do.
"I should leave." Azrael mustered up all the strength in his body to speak without shaking. Backing up further, he found himself standing in the doorway, ready to remove himself from his presence, but Pavel's voice stopped him before he could move any further.
He let out a loud sound, almost a sigh but much too aggressive. In a decisive movement, Pavel pushed himself up off of the bed and now stood stock still, staring at Azrael from across the room. Pavel's torso was clean from blood now, though the unscarred parts of his flesh were still red from the rough contact of Azrael's tongue and the inflammation caused by the accelerate healing his body was going under. "Don't bother, it's fine. I'm fine."
Once more, they fell into silence but Azrael found himself relaxing the furrowing of his brows slightly, satisfied that he seemed to have actually done some good. Azrael closed his eyes for a brief moment in relief. Somewhat more confident, he took a few steps forward into the bedroom and closed the gap between him and Pavel back up so his vision could focus on his wounds. Or what was left of them.
As was expected, his wounds were knitting themselves together swiftly under the thick, glistening sheen of Azrael's saliva but the progress could not be described as seamless. The flesh on either side of those canyons gouged deep into Pavel's flesh puckered together clumsily, leaving obvious, raised trails of scars. It was reminiscent of the mess Azrael had made of his clothes in his early adult years when he couldn't afford to replace them when he ripped them but had never learnt to sew neatly. A more scholarly man would be able to make a profound comparison, to mountain ranges, or something, but Azrael was not well-educated.
Before he realised it, Azrael had reached his hand out so far that was almost touched Pavel's skin again. Without retracting it, he met Pavel's eyes as he stared up at him, though his gaze hopped between Azrael's face and his outstretched talons. "I'll check your wounds. You can go after. I'll lend you some clothes too, so you don't walk around caked in blood."
After everything that had happened, it had taken Azrael this long to notice that the lower half of Pavel's shirt, now lying discarded on the bed, was dotted with still-wet blood. The dark fabric had probably hid the true expanse of dried viscera that had undoubtedly soaked into it. Pavel nodded. "I appreciate the offer but I don't think your clothes will fit me."
Azrael was amused by Pavel's flat responses, a sharp laugh catching his chest. His hand touched the other man's body now, fingers running over his new scars gently, pulling the skin slightly to check that it had been properly fused together. Pavel slowly turned on the spot without Azrael's request, knowing he would need to check his back too. This was conducted without words, though it didn't feel uncomfortable – it simply felt like when a doctor look at a patient in a hospital, far more relaxed than the application process had been. "You're fine, which is expected. And you'd just be wearing them to go home in, mh? You can return them later."
Looking back at Pavel's face, he seemed to be considering Azrael's words. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. But who says I'd return the clothes? I could just steal 'em, sell 'em – why are you trusting me?"
That's a good question, Azrael thought. How can I say I trust him implicitly because I've been watching him for seven years and know him well enough to know he's not a thief? Azrael looked away from Pavel's face, darting his eyes to the further corner of the room as he quickly thought of an excuse. "I'll be giving you old clothes, so I don't care if you do. If you were a thief, shouldn't I be more concerned that you would burgle my house?"
He snickered, crossing his arms across his chest. Azrael couldn't tell if it was for comfort or if the chill of the autumnal air had finally crept into Pavel's naked skin. A wave of goosebumps rose along his furred arms and Azrael's question was quickly answered. "That's true. So, hand me some clothes and I'll be out of your hair until I return them."
Nodding, Azrael walked past him and rounded the bed so he could get into his wardrobe. Pulling open the doors, he scanned his eyes across the crisp, ironed clothes that hung in a neat row in the small unit and clicked his tongue. Pavel wasn't wrong that most of Azrael's clothes wouldn't fit him but he was certain that he had some clothes from bygone years folded at the bottom of the wardrobe that no longer fit him and he just hadn't gotten rid of yet. Azrael was considerably slimmer when he first moved here, though never so wretchedly skinny as Pavel was. That also disregarded the almost a foot height difference – that wasn't Pavel's fault, he was already almost 6ft, Azrael was just part of a naturally large species – and the wing holes, but most of the shirt's slits buttoned or zipped closed anyway.
With a laboured grunt, Azrael dropped onto his haunches, tucking his wings closer so they were out of the way, and began to sift through the shirts packed tightly in the wardrobe floor. Each pile documented a year of his life that had gone by, he realised, but he didn't dwell on that thought as he wrapped his fingers around a soft t-shirt that he didn't recognise. Where the hell did I get this?
Not looking at it closely, he bundled up the obnoxiously bright purple fabric into a ball and tossed it backwards. "Here's a top. Do you want trousers or will you be fine just using yours?"
"No need, just this will do. Thank you." Pavel's voice was a bit muffled as the rustling of fabric on skin echoed around the room, clearly sliding the shirt on as soon as he had caught it. Some more intonation, some positive emotion had crept in now as he seemed to become a bit more comfortable "Should I get going now?"
He's thanking me too much. "I'll see you to the door…" Azrael's voice trailed off as he got up and dragged his eyes over to meet Pavel's gaze he could feel boring into his back. "…ah."
Everything came crashing to a halt.
Azrael froze in place as he finally took in the shirt he had thrown over to Pavel. It shocked him that he hadn't recognised that purple, considering it had been the favourite shirt of- absolutely not, I'm not thinking about that, about him. That hideous shirt must have been brought with him accidentally when he moved here, bundled up with the rest of his clothes, all those years ago. He shook his head and forced his face to take on a neutral appearance, rather than the shell-shocked expression Azrael knew his face had unconsciously fallen into. The calm certainly didn't reach his eyes, but his eyes found it hard to lie about his emotions, so he hoped that Pavel didn't notice. Not that he had any reason to.
Lifting his hand, Azrael gestured to the door and tilted his head to indicate that Pavel could go first and he would follow. What he didn't account for was Pavel's impressive perception as he stared at Azrael with a raised brow and pursed lips. His head tilted from side to side, his ears pricked up in unbridled curiosity. It seemed something clicked in his head as he looked down at the cartoon-emblazoned shirt and back at Azrael. "Do you not want me to wear this?"
"Where did you get that ideafrom? No, it's- uh, it's fine. Just remember to return it to me, ah please." It was embarrassing to stumble over his words so obviously. Azrael continued to stare blankly, though his faux relation became strained as this contest continued. His unblinking eyes became unpleasantly dry before his vision grew misty for a second, his translucent second eyelid wetting his cornea. His voice caught in the back of his throat, hiking it up a pitch. "Let's go now."
Pavel knew not to push it, it seemed, and nodded before swivelling on his heel and swiftly exiting the room. Before following the receding form of the golden man, Azrael took a moment to compose himself, swallowing back his overwhelming emotions that he simply didn't want to deal with now – or ever, really – especially not when Pavel was here. He didn't need to know that the already intimidating dragon tending to him was so deeply unstable nor the reason why he was. Pavel needed him to be dependable, even though it was just this once.
With a harsh inhale through his nose, Azrael cleared his throat, shook his head, and followed Pavel through the house to where he stood waiting in the hallway. Arms crossed across his chest, Azrael noticed that Pavel's foot was also tapping on the floor, thought he couldn't figure out what the nervous tick was actually for. However, his surprise mostly came from the fact that Pavel hadn't just run off through the door that he knew was unlocked.
"I'm glad you waited." Azrael gave Pavel his best attempt at a genuine smile, though he was sure it was just a brief flash of teeth and an uncomfortable contortion of his face. It was stiff but that didn't matter – it was the thought of it that counted. Awkwardly, Azrael shuffled past him, the space in the hallway barely enough for his winged body to fit around Pavel. "Follow me. I'll let you out."
He nodded lightly and padded down the hall behind Azrael, his canvas shoes hardly making a sound on the hardwood floor. It was a short walk, but nevertheless, Azrael enjoyed the last few moments he would be spending with Pavel. Hesitating for a second, Azrael pulled open the door and looked down at the other man.
Shockingly, Pavel continued to look exceedingly anxious, ears flat to his skull, even though Azrael was allowing him out. Pavel noticed his gaze, the confusion within it and his expression fell into something unreadable. "I'm not… I feel uneasy leaving. It's ridiculous, really."
Azrael's lips pressed together into a thin line. "I don't think that's ridiculous." He enunciated his words, slowly as he was unsure that what he was about to say was actually a good idea. "Well, if you continue to feel, as you say, uneasy… you can knock on my door. I'm usually here and if not, the side gate is never locked and you can get in through the back. There's a key under a plant pot." Azrael's hand continued to hold the door open, the sound of cars spilling in and cutting through the stillness that fell between them.
Averting his eyes, Azrael stared out to the street as he waited for the golden man to barrel past him and leave, perturbed by the odd offer considering, to him, they were complete strangers. Well, he is, by all definitions, a stranger to me too. I only know what I can see from a distance.
Instead, Pavel's voice came back and it felt like the whole world's hum was dampened as he spoke. "Thank you. I will consider your offer. So… I'll be going now." He brushed past Azrael, his shoulder gently bumping his chest as he stepped out onto the driveway. Striding onward until his feet met the pavement, Azrael expected him to continue on and never come back, to never to want to interact with him again, but Pavel stopped suddenly. His shadow stretched up, distorted and gangly on the gravel.
Turning around sharply, one of his ears stood half-bent as the other flopped gently against the side of his head. With an oddly wide, toothy smile that Azrael never expected to see from him, Pavel called to him. "Perhaps I'll see you again soon, Mr Good Samaritan."
Azrael let out an amused exhale, finding the way Pavel was so playful in this circumstance to be quite admirable. He didn't even mind that Pavel didn't use his name. The indomitable 'human' spirit, was that what this was? He really is quite resilient, isn't he? In response, Azrael called back. "Perhaps. But maybe you could tell me your name first?"
A beat passed, as they looked at each other across the drive. It seemed he was reticent to give Azrael that information, though he didn't know that Azrael already knew his name. That wasn't a surprise though. However, just before he disappeared out of view, his voice rang clear:
"It's Pavel!"