"Just once. Please. I need this."
The words still echoed in his mind, the exact tone imprinted on his brain. He shook his head, lay his chin on his knees.
"I need to feel arms around me. I need to feel safe, wrapped with someone else. You get that, don't you?"
He bit his lip, stared out over the grimy city. He would not cry. It was inevitable. Everyone needs someone. Sometimes. Like that.
He wasn't meant to witness it. He knew that. He was never meant to see Jak break down, be desperate, need someone else. Jak had waited until he was meant to be out.
It meant something, right? That Jak tried to protect him this. Didn't protect him from the Dark side, but protected him from what he knew would really hurt him.
That was why he did it. It had to be. It was not just for the privacy or his own ego's sake. Jak wouldn't... Jak was always thinking of others.
Looking out for him.
He had to be.
He closed his eyes and recoiled as the scene played out before him again.
He was meant to be out. Meant to be going to the bar with Tess to try and listen in on one of Krew's meetings. He could fit where no one else could, where no one would really think of looking. Vents, boxes, he could cram into just about any space by now.
But the meeting was cancelled. Tess was waiting outside to tell him. She offered him dinner, he had said no. Jak had a day off, he wanted to spend some non mission time with his best friend.
And, well, it was Love's Day. And they'd always spent the day together. He knew tess hoped that he would spend it with her, now that his job was cancelled but...
He wanted to spend it with Jak. Because... well, just because.
A kiss on his forehead, and she was taking off and he was walking back inside, feet padding quietly on the stone steps.
He saw Jak, back to him, hip cocked in that endearing way he stood when he was uncertain about something.
He was going to pounce up onto him, surprise him with a hug around his neck and an offer to pay for lunch, but something stopped him.
Jak was speaking. Not angry speaking. Not growly, how he talked to everyone but Dax speaking.
He was soft and timid and... familiar.
"Look, um... you and me don't ..."
"Get to the point, Jak, I'm a busy man."
And he knew that voice. That rough, gravely voice.
"I'm seventeen. I never had any family. I spent two years being tortured by the Baron and I don't remember what human hands feel like when they're not hurting me."
There was a pause. He felt like his heart was going to start up again any moment now.
"I'm not asking for anything long lasting." Jak leant forwards, onto the desk. "I just want this afternoon. Nothing past it."
"Having sex with people you work with is a bad idea. It gets uncomfortable."
"What's uncomfortable? We're not friends."
"No, we're not. Why me, Jak?"
"Because..."
And he was leaning forwards, angry and hurt and wanting to hear the answer to that exact question. Why Torn?
"Because you could make me feel safe. Like I don't have to be in charge." Jak shrugged. "Because I don't want to be a leader. I want someone to look after me, for an afternoon. Hold me," he leant in closer, "touch me without hurting," and now Torn was leaning closer as well, "make me feel protected. You like protecting people, Torn."
"I don't usually do casual sex."
"Please." And Jak was pleading, one hand reaching to Torn's sharp face, following one of the lines that decorated it. "Just once. Please. I need this."
And his fingers drew out to trace over one long ear, fondling. "I need to feel arms around me. I need to feel safe, wrapped with someone else. You get that, don't you?"
And Torn nodded. "Yeah. I get that."
And then, they had kissed.
He had left. Left them, Jak perched on the desk, pushing himself against the other man as Torn leant over, his hand buried in Jak's long hair, fingers possessively stroking along Jak's ear and jar.
Daxter looked at his small body, which could never do anything but be cradled like a child in Jak's arms, and sobbed.