Trust ~ Jean Kirschtein x Reader/OC

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX ~ The Truth in Scars

I finally reach his bedroom door that is being lit by the candle that hangs on the opposite side of the wall. It lies slightly ajar, meaning that I would be able to see Jean's bed as it is closest to the door. I take a small breath to prepare myself for what I know Jean has been waiting for for a long time now - I would finally stop hiding from him, especially when he has told me one too many times that he wants to be here for me whenever I need.

Peeking through the gap, Jean sits comfortably on his bed with some type of book in his hands. He seems completely content with whatever he's doing, and it intrigues me all the more, especially since I've never really seen him do anything but train, argue, or eat. I lean in closer, hanging onto the door frame so I don't accidentally fall into the room, and that's when I notice he's got a pencil in his hand. Is he... drawing? I focus towards the book in which I assume he uses to sketch in to see what he is working on. It is a portrait of sorts, or at least that's what I assume it to be from here. If I want to see it, I have to get closer, but I don't want to intrude on him. But it has me so curious, how I never knew that he drew before now, and why he didn't tell me. Maybe there wasn't an opportunity for him to tell me, or maybe he felt like it wasn't worth sharing. This new found part of him that I've just seen makes me feel strangely warm inside, he looks so concentrated in the moment, completely focused on making sure that his artwork looks nice to him. I feel myself begin to smile, also excited that we have the same hobby in common, something that I can't wait to share more with him.

I push the door slightly more open, making it creak on its hinges, and give it a small knock. "Are you drawing?"

The sound of my voice startles him as he slams the book closed and shoves it down beside him, against the wall and away from me. My smile fades into surprise as he stares at me, eyes wide, his lips pursed shut. What was that...

I awkwardly clear my throat, "uhm, can I come in?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, moving to sit on the edge of his bed rather than across it. I tiptoe into the room and sit down quietly beside him, folding my hands into my lap and anxiously gripping onto the fabric of my skirt.

The dryness in my throat makes me want to gag, realising the reality that I am really going to do this right now.

"So," I choke, "I promised you that I would tell you the truth... the full truth... and even show you."

I look at him through the corner of my eye with my head down, watching his eyes widen and his position adjust in readiness.

"When I said the rubble crushed my house and killed my parents, that isn't all that happened. Our house caved in as parts of the wall came down on it, and a large chunk landed on me," it's as if I can feel the room still. Even if Jean's mouth is shut, his eyes scream so many different emotions at once. They dart worriedly between mine, and ask me why I've never spoken of this before, and how I've hid it for so long.

"Really, it's remarkable I even have a leg," I laugh awkwardly, "but that's the story behind the scars that... that Zariya thought she could help with."

I bend down and grab the bottom of my skirt that lies midway past my boots. I conveniently put this on this morning without having remembered or even thought about what I had said. Wearing skirts is just a fallback outfit choice, something I don't really think about when getting dressed.

I slide the fabric up to halfway across my thigh, around where the scars stopped. I'd almost forgotten how ugly they looked as I hold my breath, my eyes wide with anxiety and my breath quickening. Some of them were short, but a lot of them were thick, long, and stretched, ending up that way as I grew older and taller.