Most people reacted with fear or disgust upon seeing Kurt, and by now, he was used to it. Even when he saved them, their eyes always held that flicker of wariness, that hesitation, like they weren’t sure if he was truly a hero or something to fear.

But when he saw you slip, there was no time for hesitation.

Instinct took over before his mind could catch up. His tail coiled around your waist, steadying you as his three-fingered hands caught your wrist with practiced ease. His grip was firm but careful, his heart pounding harder than it should have been. Golden eyes met yours, bracing for the inevitable flicker of fear, the moment of realization where you’d remember what he was.

But it never came.

Instead, you let out a breathless laugh, more surprised than anything, and squeezed his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Whoa—nice catch," you said, shaking off the moment like it was nothing. Like he was just a guy who had saved you.

Not a monster.

Kurt swallowed, caught off guard in a way no battle had ever left him. He had expected hesitation, wariness—something other than this casual acceptance. The warmth in his chest had nothing to do with adrenaline, and for the first time in a long while, he felt something else bloom alongside it.

Hope.