Johnny ignores Kaner’s outstretched hand, despite the fact that it’s the first time that Kaner has willingly offered to touch him since Johnny woke up with fucking wings. Kaner eyes him impatiently, and finally winds up balling Johnny’s fingers loosely into a fist, careful not to mess with Johnny’s claws, and then knocking his own hand up against them before pulling back again. He nods to himself, clearly stupidly triumphant about it. Then Kaner draws in a sharp breath, nostrils flaring and everything, and his eyes dart down to his own hand, staring at it like it’s something foreign, like it’s something he doesn’t even recognize.
Johnny would have met him halfway on it, but he’s still not sure how this all - works. “Your skin’s not burning off,” Johnny says uneasily, and tries not to make it a question. His mom would have told him if that was a possibility. He’s pretty sure.
“No,” Kaner says quietly, eyes snapping back up to Johnny’s face, shaking his head slowly. He looks - Johnny doesn’t know how he looks; he just knows that he’s never been looked at like this by anyone, much less Kaner. Johnny can feel his own face heat up, and something in his stomach gets tight and weighted. His hearing goes in and out for a moment, where it’s like the room goes completely silent and still, and even the air conditioner’s low fan setting fades into nothing. He shakes his head, trying to clear the cobwebs.