DISCONTINUED ️ ❝ 𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐂𝐘 ❞ ~ [ᵂᵉˡᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᴴᵒᵐᵉ/ᴿᶠ ᵂᵃˡˡʸ ˣᴼᶜ]

[𝟗.] 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐀𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞

"Scars are the silent storytellers, etching into our skin the memories of battles fought in the darkness, reminding us of the strength that emerges from confronting our deepest struggles."
 
 
              _______ 💉 ______
 
 
With the stitching completed, Walden's fingers momentarily rested against the surface of the stool as he eased into a seat opposite Vincent.
Vincent shifted his position gingerly, feeling the weight of the world lift slightly from his shoulders as the pain dulled.
As he adjusted his posture, Walden's gaze unintentionally wandered, his curiosity getting the better of him.
 
 
His crimson eyes found themselves drawn to Vincent's bare torso, the scars that adorned it like a tapestry of battles fought and won.
Walden's gaze traced the lines of the scars, his thoughts momentarily captivated by the significance of each one.
 
 
Among them, a prominent scar stood out, a jagged mark that snaked across his left chest, resembling what could have been a burn - a testament to the dangers that were part of Vincent's chosen path and to his unwavering dedication and the risks he was willing to take on behalf of the team.
 
 
Yet, some of Vincent's battle stories remained concealed beneath the artistry of his tattoos.
His right arm boasted a canvas of ink, adorned with Hawaiian roses and a star-like shape centered by a skull - a contrast of beauty and mortality.
 
 
He quickly averted his gaze from Vincent's exposed torso, realizing that he had been staring intently.
A subtle blush tinted his cheeks, though he managed to maintain his composure despite the internal embarrassment, preventing himself from getting caught in the act of staring.
 
 
As he collected himself, Walden's thoughts drifted back to the scars that adorned Vincent's body.
He had always wondered about their origins, particularly the older scars that intermingled with the tattoo on Vincent's right arm.
Each mark held a story, a piece of history that Walden found himself curious about.
 
 
The burn scar on Vincent's chest was a memory etched into his mind.
He knew exactly where that scar had come from.

{{{ It was one of the factors that had contributed to their strained relationship.
The incident that led to that burn scar was a crucial moment - one that had created a rift between them, leaving them emotionally distant. }}}

Although the incident was in the past, the consequences lingered in their interactions.
The distance that had grown between them, the underlying tension.
 
 
The memory of the burn scar, seared not only onto Vincent's skin but also into their relationship, weighed heavily on both men.
The wounds had healed, but the emotional aftermath remained, casting a shadow over their interactions.
 
 

There was something about this moment, about their shared experience, that transcended the usual tension between them - Walden found himself taking mental notes of the exchange, reflecting on the surprising nature of their shared moment.
This interaction had been more than their usual tense bickering; it had been a conversation that extended beyond their typical boundaries.
 
 
Breaking the silence that had settled like a shroud in the room, Walden cleared his throat, his voice carrying a note of hesitation.
  
  
  
"So... about that collaboration..." He began tentatively, his eyes meeting Vincent's.
 
 
He knew it was a sensitive topic, one that had caused friction between them during their previous interactions.
Still, he felt compelled to broach the subject once again.
 
 
Vincent's gaze shifted toward him, a sidelong glance that held a mixture of contemplation and reserve.
The pause stretched as if Vincent was mulling over his response, leaving Walden to wonder what was going on in his mind. Finally, he spoke, his voice carrying an air of detachment.
  
  
  
"It wasn't my idea." Vincent stated, his words a clear indication that his involvement wasn't voluntary.
  
  
  
Walden's brow furrowed in confusion at the response.
"It wasn't? But you seemed so eager during the meeting." He remarked, his curiosity piqued.
 
 

Vincent's lips curled into a faint, ironic smile.
  
"Eager, you say?" He mused, a note of amusement coloring his tone, it was something that not a lot of people had seen from him.

"Let's just say it's an order from the Head Director, or did you not hear me back then?"
  
  
  
  
Walden blinked, processing this information.
It wasn't the answer he had expected, and yet it made sense.
Or perhaps his temper had gotten the best of him after their hundredth meeting.

Vincent's dedication to duty was well-known, and if an order had been given, he would undoubtedly follow it.
 
 
Their words, though simple, had conveyed a level of shared experience.
The stitches and bandages, the pain and discomfort - all of it had woven an unexpected connection between them.  
   
 
It was as if they had momentarily stepped out of their usual roles and differences and engaged in a conversation that was more human than they had allowed themselves to be.