It Shouldn't Hurt! (Cat Noir X OC)

Chapter 2 (Eric POV)

Gore warning.

My father. He was probably out drinking again and thought we were back home with the way I set things back up. I opened the door for him. He looks at me, furious. "Where is Carrie?!" He screamed. "She's out with her friends, Dad." I fibbed. My mother, Carrie, had died two years ago. He growled and grabbed his pocketknife. "Not home, but I don't know where she is," I said, truthfully. I wasn't sure if my mother was in some sort of afterlife or just flat out GONE. He smacked me and shoved me into my room. "Where?!" He yelled, over and over, and then, he grabbed my arm, plunging the knife into the flesh. I whimpered but didn't do anything more. I figured he would stop, but he pulled the knife out of my arm and started cutting me. I couldn't help it, and a few strangled sobs made their way out of my throat. He didn't stop after I passed out, and I knew because I woke up in the morning with more scratches than before I fainted. I got out of bed and grabbed a long-sleeved shirt to wear, despite the fact that it was just after summer ended and t-shirts and tank tops were a MUST. I chose the thinnest one, but I knew I would still be sweating, so I covered my wounds with bandages from the first-aid kit before I changed. When I finished breakfast, brushed my teeth and hair, I began walking. I made it in one piece and walked into the school. When I made it to my classroom I immediately noticed that Adrien was here already too. I walked to my seat and opened my notebook, beginning to write down what had happened last night in the third person to the best of my abilities when Adrien poked me. I looked at him, annoyed. "What?" I snarled. "...What are you writing?" He asked me. I rolled my eyes and put away my notebook. "Nothing important," I said, looking away to try and hide my blush. "If you say so." He mumbled, his voice full of worry and disbelief. I sighed and got to work. After I finish the class assignment, I get back to working on my story. I didn't notice him watching me write, and he read my story from one end to another. He put a hand on my shoulder and whispered to me. "Is everything okay at home?" He asked, startling me and I jumped. I caught my breath and nodded, relieved. He sighed, and I knew he wanted to say more, but time was running out, and the bell rang not two seconds later. His hand gripped my shoulder, keeping me there and making it hard for me not to wince. The cuts were HORRIBLE there. He waited until everyone left and let go. I gasped in relief, having held my breath to keep from whimpering. He sighed at me and looked right at me. I growled slightly. He got out of his seat and began to get his stuff together. I doubted that he wouldn't bring this up again, so I just shoved everything into random backpack pockets and begin to walk out. "No. I need to talk to you." He said, leading me to sigh and wait. He finished packing up and walked right up to me, just an inch or two below eye level, (I was tall!) and looked me right in the eyes. "I need to know why you wrote that, Eric." He said, making me flinch. "I never told you my name and the teacher doesn't Call Roll," I said, afraid of how he found out. "Marinette told me about you. But that's beside the point. There's nobody else here, so I want you to tell me the truth. Is something going on at home?" Adrien said, calmly and reassuringly. I sighed. "Yes," I responded, trying to leave but he caught my arm first, making me gasp. He let go and walked in front of me before I could recover from the pain. "Can you show me your arm?" He said, worriedly. I sighed and lifted my sleeve, showing him the stab wounds and cuts. He gasped, probably not expecting stab wounds. He looked right at me and gave me a hug, wrapping his hands around my torso, holding tightly. I pulled my sleeve down and patted his back. He began to cry into my already tear-stained grey shirt. I rubbed his back. How can someone have so much compassion to the point of tears? I never did, not even when my mom died. I cry for myself and myself only, and I still don't cry much at all. His grip tightened. "Ow. Too tight!" I said, struggling to breathe. He let go. He wiped his eyes and looked right at me. "I'm so, so sorry." He said, on the verge of crying again. I put my hand on his shoulder and said,"It's not your fault. If it were, I probably wouldn't have let you hug me." I said, making him chuckle slightly. He wiped his eyes and grabbed his backpack, leading me out the door. He stopped me just outside of the school. he handed me a piece of paper with his number. "Call me if you wanna talk okay?" He asked, leading me to nod.

EOC