Come a little closer

Ken’s always been aware of his bulk, but right now he is hyper-aware of it, of the way Ray’s head presses against Ken’s belly, the way Ray’s arms don’t quite close around Ken’s waist, the sharpness of Ray’s body against the softness of Ken’s. He isn’t sure if he likes the contrast or not. No. Strike that, he does. He loves the feeling of Ray, small and vulnerable for all of his ragged edges, curled up in his arms. He shouldn’t like that. Ken definitely has enough pride left to acknowledge that. (Bit sick, this, isn’t it? Enjoying it while your friend breaks down in tears in your arms, just because you like the feel of him?)