Trigger warning: Abuse
If your not comfortable with this then skip to next chapter. AND if you love angst and watching characters suffer then go ahead.
READ ON YOUR OWN RISK
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I sat on the edge of my bed, the silence thick between us. Then I began to speak — everything I'd kept buried for years spilled out.
From my bag, I took out my makeup kit. My hands trembled as I wiped away the layers covering my face, then rolled up my sleeves. Underneath, my skin told its own story: scars tracing my cheeks, arms, and wrists.
Gary's breath caught. His voice broke the silence, soft but intense:
"You're beautiful. The scars… they make you even more beautiful. They're proof you're strong. I don't understand why your parents — or anyone — could hurt you like this…"
He hesitated, his hands clenching slightly, then asked:
"May I… touch them?"
That question almost undid me. I had expected disgust, pity — not this. Tears stung my eyes as I nodded faintly.
He moved closer, gently tracing a scar on my cheek with his fingertips, then another on my arm. His eyes darkened, filled with something fierce, like he was ready to kill whoever had done this to me.
Then he pulled me into his chest and hugged me tightly.
"Sorry… I should have noticed sooner. You've been through so much. I'm sorry."
This is a lovely follow-up — sweet, funny, and human. It shows how Allura is starting to relax and even tease him a little after everything they've just been through. The humor and warmth are a perfect counterbalance to the heaviness earlier.
He asked where the first-aid box was, and I pointed it out. Rolling up his sleeves, he carefully patched up my wounds, his hands steady and gentle.
That's when I noticed it: a black dragon tattoo winding up his right arm. Its mouth opened on his lower forearm, baring fangs, while the tail curled all the way around to his back. I couldn't help but stare.
He caught me looking and smirked. With a little flourish, he slipped off his jacket to show it off properly.
"Got it on my 18th birthday. Cool, right? I've got more, too. I was bored and thought — why not?" he said, obviously proud of himself.
I gave him a flat, unimpressed look.
"You do realize that in Japan, tattoos are associated with the Yakuza? You've basically made yourself a walking police target."
His smile faltered. His face went pale, and he froze, eyes darting toward his arm like he'd just realized he was wearing a neon sign.
"…Right. I forgot about that," he mumbled, his confidence cracking. Then he added weakly,
"But I mean… I'm a foreigner, so it won't matter… right?"
He glanced down, suddenly less sure of himself.
I couldn't help it — I burst out laughing.
Even now, at twenty, he was still the same boy I met when he was fifteen.
We both started laughing, the tension melting away.
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LOL tricked you all.
Well next time the warning will be serious with emojis.
See you all on next chapter.