🍓Skephalo oneshots🫐

☆ Scars

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Tw: negative self talk
[Skeppy's pov]

I hate this stupid scar. It's this big, ugly splotch that covers the upper half of my left arm.

I got it when I was a kid. I was about 13 and my parents left me home alone. I was hungry, and we didn't really have any snacks in the house at the time, so I had to cook something.

I don't quite remember what I was trying to make, but it involved boiling water. I couldn't find any of our pots, so I figured i'd use a bowl. I knew the plastic ones would melt, so I grabbed a glass one.

As you may know, glass shatters at high temperatures. I didn't know this unfortunately. Because of this,it got too hot and the bowl exploded.

Glass shards flew everywhere, and the water burst out with it, splashing directly onto my arm.

I panicked and tried to turn the stove off, but the glass and water on the burner lit on fire directly under that same arm, making everything worse.

I called 911 and went to the hospital and all that, they told me I ended up with a 3rd degree burn. I was just grateful to be alive.

Would that event have killed me? Probably not. But did i think it would in the moment? Yeah.

Trauma aside, from then on I was left with this disgusting scar where I was burned.

It's healed at this point, but the doctors say there will be discoloration on that part of my arm for potentially the rest of my life.

I want it gone. I tried to tattoo over it, the texture of the scar made it impossible to do so.

I tried to get it surgically fixed, but it was way too expensive.

I just have to live with it. My wardrobe is entirely long sleeve shirts and sweaters at this point. No matter what, I'm wearing something that covers my arms. During videos, at meetups, in the middle of winter and the dead heat of summer.

This has always concerned My boyfriend, bad. He complains it's not healthy, that I don't need to hide, that he loves me no matter what.

But he doesn't know the reason I do it.
He's never seen the scar; he's not aware of this gross blemish.

I mean, of course he isn't. He wouldn't still be my boyfriend if he was. It's honestly stupid to think he'd still love me if he saw it. It hurts to imagine his reaction to seeing my scar.

But it's fine. He doesn't know, and he doesn't have to. I'll bundle up the rest of my life if it means I get to keep him. Logically I know he probably wouldn't care. But I'm still scared.

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Bad decided to take me out on a date tonight. We packed a nice picnic basket and he's driving us to a nice spot in the park.

I post a picture of us on Twitter, and the fans of course go crazy. He put on some nice jeans and a black t-shirt with something from his favorite show on it.

I'm wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a tank top covered up by one of my merch hoodies. Bad told me it's gonna be warm tonight and a hoodie might get sweaty, but as you can guess, I plan to keep it on anyway.

We make it to the spot, and bad being the gentleman he is, quickly gets out and trots around the front of the car to open my door for me.

He's so sweet.

I giggle and grab the picnic basket, stepping out of the car. Bad closes the door behind me as I walk towards the trunk and pull out the blanket we brought.