Diabolik Thoughts

Scars

He always does it. Always. It would always bother you, his habitual scratching. He longs for pain that he'd do anything to hurt himself, and though he loved it, one way or another it deeply, worries you. You two had talked about it, and you feel nothing but guilt and sorrow everytime the mentally unstable vampire gets his point across. You favor him, always, but not this time. Not when he went over the line. You are both in his lonely room, medicines all over the floor as you disinfect all the wounds he had caused the entire day. He was sitting in his bed, face devoid of any emotion but grief. You'd occasionally glance at him, and you'd spot his blank eyes, the bottomless depths in them. It was hard not to get affected... but when you reach his bandages, you stopped. You mournfully trace your fingers at it, and it's then when Azusa flinch. "Can I see them?." You meekly, carefully ask. You slowly remove the cloth one by one, and he looked away, ashamed. The fabric revealed all his scars, his past. But you didn't care. It's what makes him Azusa. You reached your hand out in his cold face, guiding it back to look at you. He, in response leaned in your touch, closing his eyes. "You're more than your scars, Azusa." You whispered with tears in your eyes. "More than what people think."