❝ 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒚. ❞
╰┈➤ 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇, a rural girl named (y/n) is tending to her family's farm when she notices a nude man running through the field. intrigued and concerned, she decides to investigate, un...
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IT TOOK a second for you to wrap your mind around what happened, partially because you couldn't bring yourself to believe you kissed the man you had met less than five hours ago.
along with the dropping temperatures, your symptoms were quickly placed in the same ballpark as hypothermia, mainly because you weren't prepared for a blanket of snow to fall so suddenly.
seeing as you were on the verge of developing frostbite, logan suggested the two of you make your way back inside to warm up; although the coldness didn't seem to affect him. careful not to fall, you made your way across the sloped rooftop and over to your light-guided bedroom window.
logan stayed two steps ahead of you throughout the journey. you'd like to think he wanted to ensure you wouldn't trip over your own feet and made it back inside without sustaining any broken bones. he crawled through the window, and you followed soon after, not expecting a familiar hand to be presented from the lower level.
for a brief moment, the generous gesture raised some unsettling feelings that pricked your senses as you struggled to rationalize each knuckle's vivid, stained red marks. although every fiber of your being was screaming that it was nothing more than the cold weather presenting on his skin, the scars told another story entirely.
with a smile, you graciously accepted his invitation and took hold of his hand as you were assisted to the floor. "it's getting late; i better turn in for the night, " logan announced, a little confused as to why you were still holding his hand.
you refused to release his hand for a moment after he helped you down. the man before you held too many secrets; maybe just this once, he would let one fly.
"the scars, they look painful," you muttered, letting his fingers slip from your grasp. back at the barn, you remembered seeing war wounds stretched across his flawed skin, all healed entirely, but the constant reminders served a purpose.
feeling a hesitant knot forming in your throat, you mustered the courage to ask, "can i... can i see them?"
the scars etched into his skin served as constant reminders of the painful events from his past, symbols of everything he had lost in such a short amount of time. the intricate web of patterns that covered his body head to toe seemed to hold the key to shedding light on his situation.
without a word exchanged, he raised the tank top over his head, allowing you to see his marked torso better. his scars reminded you of vast valleys drawn into his flesh, ones that would never again fully heal. like rose stems buried under his skin, the white scar tissue fanned out against his carved flesh. you found his scars rather fascinating, knowing that each minor blemish told its own unique story.
without thinking, your hand moved on its own, gravitating towards the single wound on the upper left corner of his chest. one that resembled the work of a bullet.
