Thin Skinned [Boy x Boy]

Chapter 23

Horn P.O.V

Cuts slowly begins to wake up. He has a small smile when he sees that I'm home, but I know that he was also dreading it. He knows that he's lost his streak and that I'll want to talk about it.

"Cuts," I start softly, "do you want to just get it out of the way now?"

He pulls the blanket higher over himself. His arm is covered. Cuts is obviously hoping that I didn't already see his arm.

"I'm fine," he says, which may or may not be true.

Cuts often tries to make things better than they actually are. Even when he had a major infection due to a bite he tried to say he was fine. He'll do almost anything to avoid drawing attention to his injuries.

"Then why is your arm covered in bandages?" I ask, crossing my arms.

He lifts his right arm from its hiding spot under the blanket and reveals no bandages. His hurt arm is his left one. I wish he would make everything easier and just show me.

"And your other arm?"

Cuts mutters a soft swear under his breath, knowing he's been caught. There is no avoiding this. He knows that I know he's hurt.

Slowly, he reveals his left arm. It's wrapped in gauze and medical tape all the way up to his elbow. I sigh softly and pinch the bridge of my nose.

"What happened?" I ask softly.

He stares off to the side and bites his lip. "I accidentally cut myself in the kitchen. When I saw it, I had the urge to pick and scratch and just make it worse. I just couldn't stop myself," he explains softly.

"Cuts, Baby, that isn't good for you."

"I know it isn't good for me," he snaps. "Saying that something 'isn't good for me' doesn't mean that I can just stop doing it on my own."

Cuts is obviously frustrated, more with himself I'm sure. He was doing so well. Now we're having a conversation that we've had all too often; one I know that he definitely hates.

"I'm just worried about you," I say softly.

He sighs and rubs his face. "I know, I'm sorry. I don't mean to snap," he apologizes softly.

I pull Cuts closer and put my arm around his shoulder. He stares at the ground and stays quiet for a few moments.

"I'm not mad," I remind him. "I know it's not something you can control."

He nods and brushes a few locks of hair from his face. He obviously isn't happy about this. I know that.

Cuts always gets upset with himself when his streak breaks, especially if it's been longer than three weeks. This time he's made it to fourteen. That's his best one yet. I'm honestly proud that he's made it this far.

"I know," he pauses, "I'm just upset with myself."

I pull him close and rub his shoulders in a reassuring way. He sighs quietly and rests his face in his hands.

"I just don't want our child to end up a skin-picking freak like me," Cuts whispers, his voice trembling in obvious shame.

It hurts to hear Cuts refer to himself in such a demeaning manner. I don't consider him a "skin-picking freak" by any means. He's my partner and I love him more than anything. His condition doesn't make him a freak, it makes him a fighter.

"Babe, don't talk about yourself like that." I run my fingers through his hair. "You are an amazing person and you are going to be a wonderful parent."

Cuts can't help but crack a small smile. He may try to mope and be upset, but I know ways to cheer him up. His weak spots are the cutest.

If I kiss the back of his neck he starts giggling and complains, in a cute way, that it tickles. He hums softly when I run my fingers through his hair and relaxes almost completely. Most effective of all is when I call him perfect, kissing him ever so gently. That really makes him happy, especially because I always mean it.

"You really think so?" he asks softly.

"Of course," I tell him, kissing the back of his neck gently.

Cuts giggles softly and leans back so I can't reach his most ticklish spot. He's learned a good majority of my tricks and likes to try and stop me. Most of the time, however, he is unsuccessful.

"I love you," I say softly.

"I love you too," he replies, locking his fingers with my own.

I finally get a real smile from him, which makes me smile. Cuts is so adorable and I love absolutely everything about him. There isn't anything that I don't love.

"Don't put yourself down because you've had a rough day, Babe. Things get better. One bad day out of fourteen weeks isn't going to kill you," I reassure him.

"Yeah, I know." He sighs. "I just feel like I've let myself down. I was doing so well for so long and now I feel like I'm starting back at square one. It's so frustrating," he admits softly.

"I know it is, but don't think of it as starting over. Think of it as a small hiccup. You'll move on from it and eventually forget that it ever happened."

Cuts nods after a moment and kisses my cheek. "Thanks for making me feel better."

"That's the job I'm the best at," I remind him.

He laughs softly and hugs me, resting his head on my chest. I tease his hair gently and smile.

I'm glad that I've made Cuts feel better about his relapse. I don't want him to be upset with himself. It isn't his fault that he's like this. It's a mental thing. He honestly can't help it. I don't want him to insult himself for something that he can't control.

We'll help each other when our problems become too much to handle. It's part of being in a committed relationship. You stick together, no matter what.