Second Complacency II

"Biiiiig broooother!!"

Malik staggered slightly, more out of habit than impact, revealing no particular reaction to her smacking into him.

He only stood still, arms hanging at his sides, as her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, her arms around his chest, and her face buried in it.

Her laughter bubbled up, half sobs, half giggles, as she clung to him, hanging in the air.

Malik lowered his gaze and then, awkwardly—like a man remembering how to be human—raised his right hand and patted her back. Once. Twice. Slow, mechanical. No warmth in the motion, just the act itself.

The girl hiccuped a laugh, using his heavy cloak to wipe her tears and snot.

Malik felt a twitch under his skin.

The clean freak part of him wanted to peel her off, tidy his cloak, and maybe wipe her face. But his body stayed still, his hand kept patting. His heart knew—whoever this girl was, she mattered; she mattered a whole lot.