[One thing he's never heard anyone discuss about having soulmate is how it feels to be laying there, perfectly normal one moment, and feeling someone else's pain the next. The way it shocks the system, fight or flight, adrenaline rising to take care of something that could be miles away. Maybe it's just that most people with soulmates don't have the same fears of something else taking control. Or that they can probably contact them anytime, while Kevin tries to restrain himself, not wanting to interrupt in the middle of an errand, especially if it's going as badly as what he's feeling says it is. It doesn't feel like the all-over burning from the other day; this just feels like an old-fashioned beating. Which, at least he already knows how to handle those, and this one can't leave bruises on him.
The other thing he doesn't expect: the way even through the pain his mind immediately jumps to Emery, worry rising sharply with every phantom hit. Ask him before all this, he'd have assumed he'd be focused on taking care of himself, but instead he can't get the other off of his mind. Even once the new pains stop coming, he feels like he's going out of his mind with worry.
So it's two kinds of relief at once, when Emery walks in. The physical release from the pain suddenly lessening, going from a cacophony to a dull roar; and the mental release from seeing he's okay. Even seeing the damage, it still settles him immediately.
Consciously, he's not really expecting for Emery to practically fall onto him. Subconsciously, it's the only thing that makes sense, and Kevin's arms are around him without missing so much as a beat, the only natural response. A hand finds the back of his neck, skin on skin contact, the other arm keeping him close. The pain drains away, and nothing else seems to matter anymore -- everything's fine now.
He's quiet for a minute, just holding on tight, before he finally finds his voice.] So where's the truck that hit you?
yesssss good <3
The other thing he doesn't expect: the way even through the pain his mind immediately jumps to Emery, worry rising sharply with every phantom hit. Ask him before all this, he'd have assumed he'd be focused on taking care of himself, but instead he can't get the other off of his mind. Even once the new pains stop coming, he feels like he's going out of his mind with worry.
So it's two kinds of relief at once, when Emery walks in. The physical release from the pain suddenly lessening, going from a cacophony to a dull roar; and the mental release from seeing he's okay. Even seeing the damage, it still settles him immediately.
Consciously, he's not really expecting for Emery to practically fall onto him. Subconsciously, it's the only thing that makes sense, and Kevin's arms are around him without missing so much as a beat, the only natural response. A hand finds the back of his neck, skin on skin contact, the other arm keeping him close. The pain drains away, and nothing else seems to matter anymore -- everything's fine now.
He's quiet for a minute, just holding on tight, before he finally finds his voice.] So where's the truck that hit you?