unsteady

scars

       the people who really care will never hurt you.

                                      but if they do,

                                                you will see it in their eyes.

                                                                     for they will be hurting too.

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*slight trigger warning and also slight mature warning, but i'm not very good at that kind of writing, so i didn't go too in depth :)*

Sean

week 6 of treatment

_____

Is this all we get, once a life
Tell me we got time
I saw a world without you there
Somehow you weren't mine

And oh, please don't go, please don't go
And leave me alone

Don't wanna give my heart to someone new
Won't be anybody after you
And even if one day our time is through
Won't be anybody after you, after you
I'll never find another lover after you

He sang to her, holding her close to his chest as they rocked back and forth, their foreheads pressed together. That had quickly meshed into being their thing, a sign of transferring strength, love, and comfort. It was simple, but the inner message was so incredibly complex. Just like them.

"We're almost there," he told her. "Two more weeks until you go home."

She sighed against him, her whole frail body impacted by her visible exhaustion. "I hate it here."

"You're almost done," he murmured, closing his eyes. "You're almost there."

"I know," her arms found their way around his waist and squeezed him closer to her. "But I want to be done now."

"I know you do," he kissed the top of her head. "But you're doing better, right? So much better."

She reached up to run her hands through his hair, but winced. "Ow."

"Your wrist?" he asked, instantly kicking into hyper-protective mode.

"I'm ok," she said slowly. "I'm fine."

"Kayc," he said in a warning tone.

She looked at him, and her shoulders collapsed in defeat. "I actually," she took his hand, leading him to the bed and sitting down, motioning for him to sit beside her. "Wanted to talk to to you about them. Can we do that?"

She'd never talked about them before. She'd always pulled away, said it wasn't the time, said she wasn't ready. Was now the time? He tentatively sat down and let her hold his hand in her lap, absentmindedly stroking his hand with her thumb. "Of course," he fumbled out. "We can do that, if you want."

"Ok," she said, and she took a deep breath, rolling up her sleeve. "I'm ready. If there's anyone I want to know about them," her voice quivered, barely above a whisper. "I want it to be you."

His eyes took in five faded, dark red slices. He winced, thinking of his angel hurting so badly she tried to carve away her wings. "This one," she said, pointing shakily to the first line. "This is from when Gabe hit me the first time." She drew in a breath before she continued.

"He was drunk at a party. He didn't know what was going on, and I remember him yanking me back by my hair and throwing me into a wall, getting mad that I didn't understand what he was saying. Believe me, I was trying to, but he was so drunk I just couldn't tell." Her eyes watered.