Social Norms (Synacky)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Author's Note: Two updates in one day because I feel bad that the last chapter was a filler! Yay! Also, I'm nervous about this chapter because it's something new, and I would like to see what you guys think about it. Lots of explanations.

Again, I will stress, I love reading your feedback! It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside because you guys are just the best readers ever. So don't be shy, let me know what you think! Especially on this one...

Okay, that's it. I'll leave you guys to it, then!

-foREVerADeathbat

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Zacky’s POV

He sighed, flopping face down on his bed, fingers curling the blanket in his fists. He didn’t really have the energy to do much of anything, he felt so drained. The sleepless nights were definitely taking their toll on him.

Zacky turned onto his back and stared at the canvas leaning against his dresser. Memories flashed through his mind, stark and vibrant, calloused fingers tenderly smearing black lines across his skin. He absently brought his fingers up to brush across his cheek, flesh still red and raw from where he had scrubbed at it viciously after Brian left. He had wanted to keep it there, wanted the reminder, but a reminder for him was a new proposal for his parents, and he would not have that.

Not yet.

He knew he couldn’t hide it from his parents forever, he fell deeper into love with Brian every day, but he sure as hell would try. They wouldn’t understand, they never understood and, although they never meant to, they often hurt him far beyond their comprehension.

Zacky examined his wrists, frowning slightly. It would take much scrutiny to be able to detect the thin white lines if you didn’t know they existed, but to him they were vivid and large, zigzagging and crisscrossing haphazard paths across both wrists. They were memories as well, of sobbing in an empty house, pressed against a closed bathroom door. They were old, a few years at least, and the scar reducing cream he had purchased at the pharmacy helped them blend in nearly perfectly with his pale skin. He would cover them with tattoos one day.

Slowly, Zacky lifted the hem of his shirt on his right side, feeling lumpy, raised tissue of his scar. No amount of medicine or home remedies would make that go away, and the memory behind it still made his breath hitch as a lump formed in his throat.

He really was a slut. That was all. When it boiled down to it, he was just being used for Brian’s needs. Brian didn’t really love him, he just liked to fuck him. That’s how it always was.

Whore.

He closed his eyes, recalling Brian, remembering the way he looked at him, the way he murmured, “You’re beautiful.”

Zacky wasn’t beautiful. He hated looking at himself because he knew how he was quite the opposite. He was ugly, a word that in itself was hideous. Was Brian using that to make him stay, stringing him along as Samuel had?

Because that was how it began. “You’re so beautiful, why won’t you let me see all of you?” “You’re so beautiful, why won’t you let me touch you?” And finally, with Zacky crying from the unbearable pain of being a virgin, giving everything up to Samuel, “I love you.”

Which turned into, “You’re so ugly, no one should ever have to see any of you.” “You’re so ugly, no one will ever touch you with the love that I do.” “I’m the only one who will ever love you, and I do that out of pity.”

Would Brian turn into that? No. Zacky had confidence in that answer. Brian waited, Brian was so incredibly patient, he didn’t have the heart to hurt Zacky in any way. He remembered Brian’s concern, wary voice asking “Will I hurt you?” Yes, Zacky trusted him fully, everything would turn out alright.