yours.

[56] Jasper

Back at Miles' house, we drop our boxed food in the kitchen and head right up to Miles' room, passing his family in the living room as we go. They're all huddled around what looks like an iPad, and only Miles' mum seems to notice us. She looks up like she wants to say something, then drops her gaze and goes back to studying the tablet's screen.

In Miles' room, we kiss harder than we ever have, both seated on the covers of his bed. I love you, I love you, I love you, sounds as a steady pulse between us, both spoken and in memory. Miles' hands rove over my sides and face, still careful not to venture to the hem of my sweatshirt. But for all his caution, I don't know how long this careful little act will last. Miles is hungry, and so am I.

We go on like this for a while, kissing and whispering and feeling, until we receive an... unwelcome interruption. Miles is in the process of pulling me onto his lap when his bedroom door creaks open, and a familiar red-haired girl peeks her head in. The three of us freeze, gaping at each other. Miles and Chelsea stare each other down, their gazes unreadable, before Chelsea cracks a small, loving grin and wiggles her eyebrows at Miles before drawing her head back out of the doorframe and shutting the door quietly. The moment the latch clicks, Miles presses his lips to my jaw again, pulling me the rest of the way onto him.

"Is... Is she going to... tell anyone?" I ask between kisses.

"Mm-mm."

"Are you... sure?"

Miles pulls away just long enough to tell me she won't, that she would never do that to him. And he seems like he means it.

But I still can't shake the sinking feeling that something is about to happen, something very, very bad--

And it does. I'm just looking in the wrong direction.

While I'm distracted, Miles finally loses his patience and tears my sweatshirt over my head, exposing my T-shirt underneath. But not just that -- without my long sleeves, my arms are exposed. And the cuts marking them.

Panicked, I jump off of him and reach for the shirt Miles holds balled in his fist. Which means I'm reaching toward him, which means he sees the angry red marks slicing through the pale expanses of my forearms.

He freezes, his gaze locked on the cuts. "Jasper..." he says, his voice full of question. "What... what are those?"

I attempt to hide them behind my back. "N-nothing. Don't worry, I... Can I have my shirt back, please?" I try, a weak smile forming on my lips.

Miles rises slowly from his bed, dwarfing me with his height. "Jasper." He reaches to take one of my arms, and I resist, but he's stronger. He tugs it in front of me, examining my scars in concern. "Why..." He trails off, clearly unsure of how to continue. "Did you do this to yourself?"

"Yes?" My voice comes out very quiet. "I'm okay, though. I swear--"

"How long has this been going on?"

"Over a year, now," I say honestly. When his expression shifts in surprise and a little bit of guilt, I assure him, "It's not your fault. You couldn't have known."

His gaze dropping to my hands, he asks the billion-dollar question, the one I've been waiting for since the second he saw my arms: "Why would you do this?"

I swallow. Lots of reasons. "I... have to," is the only thing I can say.

"You have to hurt yourself?"

I wrench my arm from his grasp. "You wouldn't get it."

"You're right, I don't get why someone as amazing as you would have to hurt themself--"