[ He tries. The words don’t leave his mouth right the first time. Admitting to being afraid isn’t something he does, even when it’s clear as day that that’s what it is. ]

Can’t a man offer his husband a snack without being questioned?

[ It’s a dismissive tone, at first, that he settles on. For a moment, it seems like he’s regrown his self-conciousness and that the vulnerability has passed. It never lasts for long. He tries again. ]

...the cloak. The one you gave me. I can’t wear it any more. Brushes against the neck.