Gwen jerks away from his hand as if burned, and Jude lets her, leaves it in the air, and lets it drop back down to a place between them, sinking his fingers into the grass as he looks away from her, but in the same direction.

It doesn't hurt his feelings. It would take a lot more than being bitten for deliberately nudging up against something tender to do that.

"You are already alive and whole. Nothing is missing, only different."

The story here is far larger than he'll ever know, but parts of it are plain enough. So he pushes on that, knowing it stings.

"What makes you think that they feel obliged?" Jude asks, quietly. "They're not offering safety, like it's something for you to take and something for them to lose. They gain nothing from loving you, except you.

"They're reminding you that that place for you exists. That it belongs to you already, simply because you are. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and stars.

"And you are no less worthy."