Engraved in this book are the forty rules of the religion of love, made by Shams of Tambriz Disclaimer: I do not owe anything described in the book

Original poetry about everything. Beauty, pain, life, death... Enjoy - 💙 ~Complete~

"You know, you weren't supposed to see them." He dropped my arm. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" He grabbed my other arm, exposing those cuts as well. Bloody bandages fell to the ground and his expression changed. "Is this supposed to make me feel better?!" He held both my arms in front of me. I could feel his hands shaking. I could hear his voice breaking. He was yelling, but I knew it was a facade. He wasn't angry. He was worried. He was sad. He just doesn't know how to express anything else. "It's fine. Don't worry. I'm okay." He dropped my arms and stepped back a bit, looking down for a few seconds. He yelled in frustration, pushing me to the ground suddenly. I avoided eye contact. "In what world?! What part of your fucked up mind is telling you that this is okay?! Because let me fucking tell you right now, if you ever fucking do this to yourself again I swear...." He punched the wall and yelled in frustration, taking a deep breath to calm himself. He paused for a few seconds before speaking again. "Get up." He held out his hand and I took it, standing up shakily. He grabbed my arms again, staring at them sadly. "Again? Why would you hide them again? Why this again?" He pled desperately. "You two." A different voice from across the hallway said, making us both jump a bit. Aizawa walked over to us, looking down at my cuts with slightly widened eyes, then back up at me with a concerned expression. "I need to talk to both of you."