Dyan sometimes felt that Louis was like a cat—a cat that liked to do things entirely on his own terms.
If he took the initiative to touch someone else, that was fine. If he took the initiative to dirty his own hands, that was also fine. But if those things happened accidentally, in a way he did not want, he would become extremely uncomfortable, as if a sudden bout of cleanliness obsession had flared up, unable to tolerate being touched even the slightest bit.
"There's alcohol in the backpack. I'll wipe it for you." When saying this, Dyan felt as if he himself were some kind of virus that needed to be eliminated. Louis's gaze, however, was far too dissatisfied. Even though Dyan clearly knew Louis was harmless, he still could not suppress a sense of fear, as if his head might fall to the ground at any moment.
