Scar

The reason

I bump into him when I leave the cup in the kitchen. He is standing in front of the frigde dervouring what looks like raw meat. Dana's words echo in my head, piercing some doubtful part of me with shame. It compels me to come closer. 

He immediatly becomes wary when I don't hurry away from his sight as I usually do. Looking at my feet I stop in front of him and draw a shaky breath. It's really not fair that I treat him like evryone else. Dana is right.  

"I... I'm sorry for being... Or well, I'm sorry for saying... calling... Or well-" 

"What?" he mutters and my head flings up at his irritated tone. 

"I'm sorry, Cassian" I finally say. I can't help but look at him with hope swelling in my chest. Maybe this is it. Maybe- 

His gaze shifts from irritated to horrified. His whole face furrows into a snarling expression. Fury shines in his eyes as if I've said the one thing I never should. His hand grips my throat and I stagger backwards as he pushes me up against the fridge. 

I wait for him to tell me to never call him by his name again or scream that I'm an insensitive bastard or that that name only reminds him of Matthew but the only sound in the kitchen is his angry puffs and my horrified gasps for air. 

My eyes are stuck in the cold starlight pools. The one crossed by the scar seems to pin me down until I'm five feet under, stuck in the dark dirt. Maybe Dana was right about me treating Scar like everyone else, but maybe there is good reason why we do. 

As suddenly as he gripped me he releases me and leaves with angry stomps. My chest heaves and my hands tremble as I hug myself but I know for sure now. His dark is too much for me to handle and the sound of his real name brings it out. 

My thoughts go to Matthew. After his death, after that fight, Cassian became known as Scar. And as long as I have known him he would have had it that way. He still wears his nickname like badge of brutality so that we all will know just how much darkness there is around him. 

My thoughts don't wander any longer than that. I fail to ponder just how lonely that must be. Instead I hug my legs against my chest and shed silent tears while feeling something cold creep into my chest. 

Yes, this is what I feared. No, it is not what I hoped. But it means that nothing will change between me and Scar. 

I'm not sure whether to cry at that or bless the moon at that so I just cry until the world seems just as cold as me.