The first time he remembers feeling it was a lifetime ago, or what feels like one. He, with his arms outstretched, eyes slowly closing as he felt the force of her hand on his chest, thrusting his soul out of his body. By that time he had recovered from the initial shock and the discomfort of the glove. It always felt, for a split second, like she was doing what the teachers liked to call "bad touching," the kind he was supposed to tell someone about. That's how uncomfortable it made him. But before then, he had never seen it coming. The time he had that feeling, as he watched her gain speed and barrel down on him, he anticipated it. Not just waited for it. Anticipated it. And his outstretched arms were a signal to her. Come and touch me again.
Which she did, over and over, until he got the badge and it was no longer necessary. Well, that's half a lie. There was more than one reason he deliberately forgot Kon. One was that the soul candy, covered in lint and slightly filthy, made his stomach turn at the thought of swallowing it. And even with the convenience of the badge, part of him missed the glove. The glove with her hand in it, which made brief contact with his skin before sinking beneath it.
It dawned on him after he returned home for the second time she'd never have a reason to touch him again. While it wasn't something that should have bothered him, it did. He would never anticipate that feeling again, never, the way a child eventually stops anticipating Christmas morning. Not that he couldn't do it anymore. He just would not have the opportunity. To have her touch him again in that way, or any way.
He cussed himself often for being so stupid about it. Things and situations change, and after all this time of feigning indifference to the opposite sex, here he was thinking really hard on one member of it he could never have. It startled him how quickly he made the jump from craving her hand to craving all of her. He could only conclude that puberty sucked in ways he couldn't describe and try to get on with the rest of his life. Because obviously, no one in his right mind would want that one, not on purpose.
But then she came back and now he's all tingly and uncomfortable again, brimming with that feeling. Even without knowing how or why it's there, he savors it. And when sometimes, by either accident or design, her hand brushes some innocuous part of his body, he shivers and looks forward to the day he has the nerve to tell her he really, really likes it. Not just the feeling but the midget that causes it.