He reached into a pocket, shook out a handkerchief, and held it out.

Jacob didn’t move. He’d rather keep bleeding by his own choice than be pushed to stop it. In more than one way, he stood on the edge, his eyes wild, madness-inducing years of isolation mixed with pain having stripped away something essential.

Which was something Kurt understood well. The difference was that the pieces that had fallen away over the years were entirely different.

Between the two of them, they maybe added up to one person, together.

“Make peace?” Jacob asked.

Kurt reached forward, handkerchief in hand, his eyes tracking the welling blood, the imminent droplet. Surface tension, blood by volume—

His index finger pressed against the underside of his middle finger, like the movement of a snapped finger in reverse. He caught the blood droplet as it fell away, striking it with a fingertip. Destroying it.

Jacob was tense, more animal than person, as he prepared to react, pulling away or lashing out at the small outreach. He paused as he saw the hand movement, some of the blood touching his cheekbone.

“The day will come when we’re free of him,” Kurt said.

A fleck of blood from the destroyed droplet landed on Jacob’s ear.

Kurt timed the movement with a look toward the window that they’d used to access the rooftop.

“Eventually,” he added, his tone of voice measured, lip and mouth movements precise, to keep volume level and tone exactly where he wanted them.

The lie in that ‘eventually’ was shared entirely through the bond they’d formed between them. The ways they knew each other, the microexpressions Kurt saw, and Jacob’s instincts, which were often so good at figuring Kurt out. A very intentional fleck of blood touching the ear and a look toward the window was as good as a spoken sentence.

“I’m so frustrated, Harbinger,” Jacob said, holding the handkerchief to his nose. “I suppose I’ll have to take out my anger on the people out there.”

His gaze didn’t leave the window as he said it.

The door to their room opened, and Kurt reached out to turn Jacob’s head out toward the city, before turning away himself.

“You’re not pouting, are you, Jacob?”

The voice was deep.

Jacob turned, glaring with far too much bloodlust in his eyes. Kurt focused on keeping his expression still.

“People stronger than me are going to hit you,” King said. “Their reasons won’t be as good.”