close to my dialling heart

19🌹breaking down barriers

🎶I want trust to. I want us, too. I want lust, too🎶
~Sabrina Claudio~

DOVE 🕊

"I need to take a shower," I said. Xavier pointed to the door, and I mouthed "thanks."

After my shower, I indulged in the luxury of using his body wash and shampoo. I then selected a white dress shirt from his wardrobe and put it on. "I was going to wear that tomorrow," he said. "Sorry," I replied sarcastically. Xavier only chuckled.

Now shirtless, Xavier stood before me, and I struggled to maintain my composure. I found myself fixated on the Yin Yang tattoo on his chest once again. This time, I was close enough to notice another tattoo I hadn't seen before, located below his left breast. I couldn't quite make out what it was, but I did notice something unusual beneath the black ink. I wondered if he had recently gotten the tattoo, or if I had simply been too distracted to notice it earlier, trying too hard to pretend I was asleep.

I noticed a scar beneath the tattoo, and I suspected he had gotten the tattoo to conceal it. "Didn't it hurt to get a tattoo over your scar?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

Xavier's eyes flickered to the tattoo and then back to me. "I don't know," he replied, his voice neutral.

"Huh?" I pressed, confused.

"I was high," he confessed, his voice low. "I can't take a needle while I'm sober."

I laughed, surprised by his admission. "You fear needles?" I asked, still chuckling.

Xavier didn't respond, simply watching me laugh. His silence was palpable, and I eventually composed myself.

"Can I touch it?" I asked, my hand hesitantly reaching out.

"Yeah," he replied, his eyes never leaving mine.

I ran my fingers over the scar, feeling its raised texture. It was thick and must have been quite painful when it was fresh. "What happened?" I asked, concern etched on my face.

Xavier sighed, his expression somber. "Nothing much." But I knew it was something significant.

"Does it still hurt?" I asked, my fingers still tracing the scar.

He nodded. "Not too much, but enough to remind me that I got served." He snickered, but I didn't find it amusing. The scar looked serious and painful.

"Did you get into a fight?" I asked, my voice gentle.

"Yeah... with my dad," he replied, his eyes clouding over.

I gasped, shocked. "The man I saw in the picture?" I asked, referring to the photo I had seen earlier.

Xavier shook his head. "No... my real father."

"Why would he do this to you?" I asked, my voice trembling as memories of my own father flooded back. I had scars of my own, but they were emotional, not physical. Yet, the pain was just as real. The thought of being left with a reminder of those painful experiences was unbearable.

Xavier's response was surprisingly nonchalant. "We had a little misunderstanding." He spoke as if it was no big deal, but the scar told a different story.

"A little misunderstanding?" I repeated, incredulous. The scar looked far more severe than a simple misunderstanding.

Xavier's expression turned evasive. "Just... never mind that." He clearly didn't want to discuss it further.

My hand was still on the scar, and I felt a pang of empathy. I couldn't pressure him for information that was obviously painful for him to share. But my curiosity was piqued, and I couldn't help but wonder what had really happened.