Hello, this is my first fic in a while now, it's a fluffy drabble I guess… but I think it's cute. Please critique! One of my stories that I co-wrote with my friend has been nominated for the peddarific awards (DudeDiary) so please read that and vote!
Disclaimer: I f I owned HOA I would be hugging Eugene Simon right now, but I am not, I am writing this, therefore, I do not own HOA.
If you had ever been hugged Jerome you would know that he is very…Specific. He doesn't know you (I assume) so his hug would be distant, mostly muscled arms that would release you in five seconds, no meaning, no intention, and when he drew away, his eyes would be cold like ice.
When Jerome hugs Alfie Lewis, it is also specific. The one, careful, pale arm wraps itself around Alfie's shoulder, the careless pat on the back only happens once in a blue moon, because when Alfie is upset, he rarely goes to Jerome for comfort, because when he looks at Jeromes' tortured but caring eyes, he is reminded of a completely clear sky, great, but harsh and tough, he realizes that his problems pale in comparison to Jerome's destroyed home-life—though Jerome never says anything—and Alfie didn't need that.
When Jerome hugs his sister—outside of wrestling context—it is to completely surround her petite frame with both of his arms, she is comforted by his heartbeat and steady breathing, one of the only constants in their crazy life. He gently kisses her head and tells her that it will all be okay. After being sufficiently comforted, she looks into his eyes for a moment and thinks that they look like pool water; there to support you, calm as can be, helpful.
When Jerome hugs his mother. He doesn't. If he has to touch her, it is swift and unintentional. A handshake is the closest she will ever get. They never look each other in the eye, because neither wants to confront the fact that their eyes look exactly the same: guarded, like blue plastic.
Everyone else sees this side of Jerome, the blue plastic side. But all that falls away if they see him hug Mara Jaffrey after the visit with his father. He wraps one of his strong arms around her waist and another around her shoulders, bent at the elbow so that he could cup the back of her head with his hand. He pulls her as close as possible and her head nestles in his neck. He bends his neck so that he can brush his lips against her hair in—almost—kisses. She slowly brings her hands up so that they rest on his chest. Tears escape his eyes and fall slowly into her hair as his normally steady breathing becomes ragged. When the long hug is over and they finally pull away and stare into each others' eyes, Mara isn't reminded of anything, she sees Jerome's eyes, the bluest eyes on the planet, they were filled with such turbulent emotion, that Mara was almost scared—almost—but she saw adoration and love and sadness in them, which made it beautiful to her. But then a flash of fear, anxiety, Mara leaned in a bit to let him know that she noticed. He looked at her beautiful brown eyes and then looked down. He brought his hand up to the side of her face and pulled her in for a VERY short kiss, when they pulled away they looked at each other again in love. His eyes looked different than anyone had ever seen them.
Only Mara saw Jerome's eyes when he hugged her. And only Mara's hugs ended with a kiss.