Hidden In High School ~ (Garroth x Reader)

Scars Run Deep ~ Chapter 7

Your POV

I broke the kiss, but we were still so close that his breath was hitting mine. "Funny.." I mumble. He gives me a confused look. "Aphmau.. remember earlier when she took me to the restrooms?" I ask to clarify. "She asked me which one.. I said, 'what?', and she said that Laurence still likes me, obviously, and that you.." I lowered my voice. "Liked me too. She asked me which one." 

"Who'd you say?" He asked, his eyes staring fixedly into mine. "I said you don't like me that way. She said even if you didn't, which one would I pick." I explained.
"Go on."
"I said.. that I'd rather be with.. with you. I mean, I didn't have feelings for you, but then.. I was so confused.." I muttered, looking down, a pink tint barely visible on my cheeks. "I.. I.... Do you now?" He stammered. I began drawing circles in the soft sand, but he lifted up my chin. "Do you now?" He repeated, and I ever so slightly smiled, "Yes."  

We sat in silence, thoughts bouncing around my head like a pinball machine. Just now did I realize how much his sandy blonde hair made his deep eyes stand out. Calling his eyes blue is like calling the sun yellow. Not sufficient enough to capture the burning. No, his eyes were steel blue, like clouds right before lightning strikes, and oh did they strike. His slightly off-center nose actually made him even easier to stare at, his thin, pale pink lips right where they should be. 

"So.. what now?" He asked, the moon in the night sky shining down on us. "I.. I don't know. Is.. is this what you want? Or no?" I asked uncertainly, concern flashing in his eyes. "This is exactly what I want." He said, grabbing my hands once again. "But.. I can't do this to you.." He said, his face now tainted with sadness. "What do you mean?" I ask, the sadness traveling on to mine. "My father, I couldn't burden you with hi-" He couldn't finish his sentence because I basically tackled him, and pressed my lips firmly against his. I now noticed his smell of lemon juice and freshly cut grass.

He took it as surprise, but he quickly put his hands around my waste, even though I was basically on top of him. I could feel his grin under my chapped lips, and I ran my fingers through his hair. I can hear his heart racing, pulsing against his chest. I pulled apart.

"I don't care about your stupid father. I care about you." I whispered, slightly giggling. "That's.. good to know." He replied, the same smile spread across his face. I leaned in really close, so that my mouth was centimeters away from his ear, before whispering.

"Now you've saved my life twice."

///////

As we trudged back home, I begin to speak, breaking the comfortable silence. "Now, you said your father.. used.. knives?" I ask quietly. The small smile he had ran away from his face as he spoke. "Yes. Yes he did."
"Did he.. stab you?" I ask, trying not to let my voice crack. He continued to watch the sidewalk intently, as if he were expecting something to happen. 
"Yes.. he um.. cut me with it quite a lot.. me and my brother." He said, though he didn't even glance at me. "Did he leave scars?" I ask, my voice a bit wobbly. "Yes." He answered, still firmly. "C-Can I see them?" I ask slowly, stuttering. He sighed. "Fine."

He pointed to his back, and I gingerly lifted up his shirt to reveal a grey t-shirt. I lifted that up, with a small blush. The blush immediately faded and became a gasp when I saw a trail of scars running down his back. I ran my finger over them, very gently, as if doing it too hard would hurt him. "That's.. t-that's horrible.." I said with a bare whisper. I took one last glimpse at what appeared to once be a line of gashes before slowly putting down his shirt and hoodie.

"How old were you?" I ask, just above a whisper. "Nine." He answered. My eyes widen. "Nine?" 
"Nine." 
That's horrible. Like, really super bad. Nine years old, and he got a knife into his back. Multiple times. I knew it was horrible when I saw the scars, but knowing he got them at such a young age? I shuddered, trying to imagine how much that would hurt. Physically, and mentally.