We're Just Kids (Sean Diaz x Male Reader)

Kids (Part 2)

Sean's POV

I knew it.

I fucking knew that his mom had been hitting him — abusing him.

I've had my suspicions for a while, especially yesterday.

When he sat on my floor sobbing, and didn't let me touch him for an hour.

When he'd wince every time he sat down.

Or when he jumped every time I put my arm around his shoulder.

Or when I laid him down in my bed he immediately woke up and made a face like he was in pain.

As soon as my hand ran up his back, I knew he was expecting me to pull away and ask questions when I felt the scars, but it only made me want to never let go, just sit there and kiss him forever.

I wanted to show that I would always be there for him, since me saying it was never enough.

And I wanted to make sure he was physically okay.

So I decided to go ahead and check, because running your hands around someone's waist or their back while kissing them is normal, right?

I was hoping not to feel anything though, that his really obvious signs that he was hurting was just my imagination, but it wasn't.

His back felt like it was torn to shreds.

And that was the worst feeling that I've felt in a while.

Fuck, why didn't he tell me?

Maybe he was scared of what I would think?

Even with all of these thoughts, I knew he didn't tell me for a reason, so I didn't ask.

If he wants me to know the story of how the scars ended up on his back, he could tell me by himself.

I don't want to force him to talk about it if he isn't comfortable.

I didn't want to take him back there.

I wanted him to stay with me in my room, so I could look after him and make sure he eats and takes care of himself... I didn't want him anywhere near somebody who physically hurt him like that.

"Sean..." I heard him call from his front door.

I quickly ran up to see what the problem was.

It was a box, full of clothes, with "Don't come back" written on the front.

I looked at him. His expression was mixed, he looked glad he didn't have to see his mom, but he looked worried.

(Y/N) noticed I looked worried too.

"Don't worry," he said, "She would've killed me if she saw this on my neck regardless." Pointing to the three hickeys I just gave him on the right side of his neck.

I blushed, remembering how I did that out of panic.

I knew he was losing his breath. I could tell when he had stopped breathing, but I didn't want our moment to end.