He wished he could say the first thing he noticed about him were his eyes, his smile, his laugh, anything cliché, but sweet.
But that would be a lie.
Because the first thing he noticed were his arms, the darkness underneath his eyes, and the bruise on his cheek, attempted to be covered by concealer, but failing to.
He wished he could say he'd love him regardless, that it didn't matter.
But it did.
"It was nice while it lasted, right?"
_
Trigger warning:
Depression, selfharm, suicidal thoughts, child abuse