Sanders Sides One-Shots

Scars

 The first time it happened was - surprisingly - the least painful and the easiest to hide. A small jagged scar etched itself into his body after a not-so-nice conversation in (pre-)kindergarten when Thomas was four. He didn't have to hide it, unlike the others he hadn't manifested during the childhood stage of their hosts life. Yes, he still had the scar yet it was as translucent as he was, a faint foggy jagged line over faint foggy skin. Significant in its own way, yet nothing truly remarkable. The pain he felt lasted a few minutes before Thomas was off again playing with some (much nicer) kid with the building blocks.

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The second time it happened was when Thomas was five and he had been shouted at for the first time. Tears had sprung to Thomas' eyes and a scar started forming across his foggy collarbone, stopping just before it reached his neck. That one was more painful, the burning of a new scar lasted the rest of the night as Thomas replayed the scene in his head.

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It got worse when Thomas was a teenager, not only because of the mental stress of school and the harsh words of students but because of the fact that he now had to hide the scars from the others. He had a (kind of) physical body, and so his scars became more and more apparent. Little tally-marks for small pains, like when someone stole his cookie or the pink crayon during art time.

Unfortunately, this time Thomas had fallen in love. With a straight man.

The new scar - right across his heart - burnt hotter than the ones before, sending pulses of pain throughout his body and making tears spring to his eyes. He curled in on himself, his hands grasping the front of his shirt and his breathing coming in short panicked gasps, hoping that it would help relieve the pain.

It didn't and he stayed in his room for two days after that, staring at the ugly scar across his chest.

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He started wearing hoodies when Thomas was fourteen, just a few weeks after his first heartbreak, because the small seemingly insignificant scars had started to move down his arms. They would soon be visible to the other Sides so he needed to cover them up, and he didn't want them to question why he suddenly started wearing long-sleeves and have to show them the scars. He could never burden them like that.

So he started wearing hoodies when Thomas was fourteen, and the Sides didn't bat an eye at the change.

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The second big scar happened just a few months after the first, just after he started to wear his baggy hoodies. Prince had gone dream-chasing only to be defeated by one of his enemies, his hopes where crushed and as Thomas' hopes and dreams that meant Thomas was feeling hopeless.

Which, of course, ended with Anxiety sitting on his bathroom, staring at his leg whilst a scar formed on his not-so-flawless skin. It was long, ugly, and made him unable to walk, but he didn't mind all that much, it was better him than Prince, right?

(Prince's scars always left him unable to walk, the always formed on his legs and where incredibly painful.)

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Patton was the worst. He got so attached to objects and other peoples pets that when they broke (or died) it always left a long scar. The worst one was the one on his lower back after Thomas' old neighbours dog (Lucas) had died, the best was a tiny scar on the inside of his arm that he got after Patton accidently yelled at Logic. He had felt so guilty that Anxiety had left to comfort him despite the faint sting on his arm.

(Patton's scars made him unable to feel, yet feel far too much at the same time. They sent tears to his eyes and made his hands tremble with emotions he knew where there yet couldn't feel.)

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With how often Prince and Morality left him with scars, Anxiety was glad that Logic wasn't easily bothered by anything emotional at all. Unfortunately, that meant whenever Logic felt even slightly above average negative emotions a harsh scar would pain his skin, on his stomach was the most popular locations from them although a few small ones littered his forehead and behind his ears.

(Logic's always made him unable to think, and when his pain was particularly bad he wouldn't be able to read or do anything that required any form of concentration. He normally ended up curled into a ball on his bathroom tiles, hoping the coolness of them would take some of the pain away.)

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He hated mirrors because of all this, he hated the way his skin was raised and red from ugly scars whilst the others got to have flawless and perfect skin; he hated how noticeable even the smallest ones where, and how they covered most of his body. He hated looking at himself.

So he wouldn't. He covered every mirror in his room, and refused to look down at his body as he changed.

... But it was worth it, the others didn't deserve to bare his scars (not matter how much he pretended to hate them).

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BASED ON THIS TUMBLR POST!!