#You drew stars around my scars but now I’m bleeding. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

in-my-feels-probably · 1 year

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hello! how are you? I hope you have a good day! can you please do “you drew stars around my scars but now im bleeding” with sirius but ends with fluff please? thank you sm!❣️

Cardigan

Request: hello! how are you? I hope you have a good day! can you please do “you drew stars around my scars but now im bleeding” with sirius but ends with fluff please? thank you sm!❣️

Hi! I’m so sorry for the long wait, it took me forever to make it through my inbox to get to this request. Thank you for being patient. I went a little bit literal with this one, but I think it turned out alright. Cardigan is my absolute favorite Taylor song, and I literally have this lyric on my phone case in a design I had made. I haven’t written for Sirius in a little bit, but I very much enjoyed writing this. I hope you like it!

(Warnings: swearing, mentions of injuries and scars, mentions of sirius’s home life, insecurity, mentions of trauma and panic responses, let me know if i missed anything)

—

Sirius had good days and bad days.

It hadn’t been that long since he had run away from home, and he was still learning how to cope. Although he had his friends by his side, adjusting to his day to day life and accepting what the future held for him was hard. Getting through the day without a hiccup was quite the feat for him.

He could go from smiling and laughing one minute, to shutting down completely and harshly snapping at someone in another.

Trauma isn’t pretty.

It never is, and it probably never would be, but it was something Sirius was learning to process and work through. Luckily, he had you by his side to help him. He knew he would never be alone as long as you were there.

Still, that didn’t stop him from trying to push you away when you got a little too close for comfort. Having someone that close meant that you knew him well. You knew every part of him, including the darkest parts, and that terrified him. It was his instinct to run when he felt you near. Like you were burying yourself under his skin, and there was nowhere left inside himself where he could escape to.

He fought that instinct every day.

You knew when to leave him alone. Over time, you had picked up on all his tells, and it was easy enough to tell when he needed some time to himself. Giving him the space to breathe was important, and you were happy enough to do so.

But you couldn’t let him be truly alone.

In the moments where he’d push you away, you’d just cling harder. If you didn’t cling, he would forever keep you at arm’s length, regardless of if he knew it was bad for him or not. He didn’t know how to do what was best for him, so he had to trust that you and his friends could do it for him until he learned how to do it for himself. And while he knew it was best to let you all do that for him, he’d still fight it sometimes.

Today was a bad day.

It had started alright. He’d even woken up with some pep in his step, his usual grin plastered on his face as he joined you in your first class of the day. He sat next to you with a smile, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head.

“Hello, love.”

You smiled, raising a brow. “You’re unusually cheery today. Did you sleep well? I normally have to wait until at least noon to speak to you if I don’t want my head bitten off. What’s different?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, reaching for your hand under the table. “I’m just happy today.”

You smiled, squeezing his hand. “Good.”

—

You weren’t sure what had happened.

You had gone to your next few classes, sitting in your last one while you waited for it to start. It was the one class you and all your friends had together, and you seemed to have gotten there first. Your table was empty as usual, with three vacant stools next to and across from you.

You were beginning to worry just as James walked through the doorway alone, a frown set on his face as he took a seat on the stool next to you.

You turned to him, confused. “James? Where are Remus and Sirius? Is everything alright?”

“No,” he said quietly, looking around to make sure no one was listening. “Something is wrong with Sirius. He showed up to Potions in a panic and wouldn’t tell anyone what happened. He bolted for the dorms the second class ended and wouldn’t stop for any of us. Remus followed him back, I came to tell you.”

Your eyes widened, and you felt a sense of dread wash over you. You quickly stood, haphazardly grabbing all your things. You carried them over to Lily, who was at a nearby table.

“Would you mind holding onto these for me? I’ve got to go.”

She nodded, sliding them closer to her. “Of course, love. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you rushed out, already pivoting on your heels to leave. “Thank you!”

You hurried out the door, James hot on your heels. You tried not to let your mind wander to the worst possibilities, choking down your fear as you approached Gryffindor tower. James took the lead then, guiding you up the stairs to his dorm. You found Remus at the top, banging on the door with his fist.

“The dickhead locked me out,” he huffed, banging on the door once more. “My wand is in there, I can’t unlock it. I think he blocked it with a chair anyways.”

“We could knock it down,” James suggested, already preparing himself to kick the door in.

“Or we could do the smart thing,” you countered, pulling your wand from your pocket. “Alohomora.”

If Sirius had barricaded the door, that was a problem for later. It didn’t matter whether he had or not unless you could actually open the door. You heard the door unlock, the click prompting you to wave your wand once more.

“Evanesco,” you mumbled, making the chair vanish from behind the door.

“Huh,” James said, more to himself than anyone else. “I didn’t think of that.”

His words would have made you chuckle if you weren’t already preoccupied. Your anxiety was stifling any other emotion you could have felt. You quickly pushed open the door, peering inside. You found Sirius in his bed, the curtains drawn.

He was shutting you out.

It was eerily quiet. You realized he had casted a Silencing Charm, preventing you from hearing anything. The room was dead silent, as if your hearing had completely disappeared. James and Remus stood on either side of you, exchanging nervous glances.

“Should we talk to him?” James asked.

Remus shrugged, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s better to let him cool off for a little while.”

You sighed in frustration, hesitating. After a minute of waiting, you couldn’t take it any longer. You marched towards his bed, trying to open the curtains. But as you tried to tug them open, they wouldn’t budge. Not even a little bit. You groaned, taking a step back.

“Sirius? Sirius, open the curtains,” you asked sternly, trying your best not to let your voice waver. “I know you can hear me. Please just open the curtains, don’t make me have to do it.”

You knew your tone was harsh. But it had to be. You had no idea what had happened, and none of you could help unless you knew what you were up against. He was already beginning to block you out, and you couldn’t let him.

You tugged on the curtains again, speaking softer. “Sirius, please.”

All of a sudden, you heard the sound of blankets being tossed and a muffled shuffle. It was like your ears had popped, as if you had been underwater the whole time you were in the room and you had just now reached the surface. There was a spell mumbled, and then Sirius’s head was peeking out from in between his curtains.

“Go away,” he spat, before sinking back behind the curtains. “I don’t want you here, I don’t need you.”

“Pads!” James quickly scolded.

“Oi! Watch your tone with her,” Remus snapped at the same time.

You ignored the twinge in your heart, pushing down the sting of his words. “It’s fine, guys. Just help me.”

Sirius heard your words, and you could hear another shuffle as he reached for the curtains. He tried once again to spell them, but James was quicker. James held onto one end, while Remus held onto the other. You stood at the foot of the bed in between them, silently scanning Sirius for any visible injuries or signs of distress as he gave you all a few colorful choice words. You let him get it out of his system before you spoke.

“We’re not going anywhere, love. Are you going to tell us what happened, or are we going to sit here? I’m happy to do either.”

When Sirius was defensive like this, one of you had to lead. It may not have been the kindest way you could have said it, but kindness isn’t what was going to get him to talk. First, you had to get through to him. Afterwards was when it was time to be kind. And he certainly wasn’t going to give you an easy time.

He was being childish. You couldn’t blame him, you knew it was just an involuntary response. But it was hard to work around it sometimes. It was one of his many reactions to being upset, and your second to least favorite—only ahead of finding him in tears.

James, ever the worrier, placed a hand on Sirius’s shoulder. “What’s going on, mate? Do I need to hit someone?”

“I’m perfectly capable of doing that myself, Potter,” he muttered, shrugging him off.

“Alright,” Remus said, stepping around the bed to grab onto James’s shoulder. “You let me know when you’re done being a git. We’ll be downstairs. Call if you need us.”

James gave you a concerned look, but he let Remus pull him away. You gave him a small reassuring smile, and he took that as enough reason to follow Remus out the door.

You sighed, turning back around. Sirius was looking up at you with dull eyes, a frown on his face. Slowly, you crawled up onto the edge of the bed. He watched as you sat, crossing your legs and folding your hands in your laps. You settled in, and it was becoming clear to him that you really weren’t going anywhere.

“Hey, sweet boy,” you murmured, trying a gentler approach. “You gonna talk to me?”

Sirius’s face softened as you spoke, but he didn’t move to speak. You reached for one of his hands, and he absentmindedly began playing with your fingers.

“You were alright when I saw you this morning. What happened? James was quite worried when he told me.”

“I didn’t mean to worry him,” he said quietly, slipping a ring off one of his fingers to slip it on yours, beginning to twist it around.

You quickly nodded. “I know. He just doesn’t know what’s happening, love. He doesn’t know how to help you if you don’t tell him what’s wrong. None of us do. I think it upsets him more than it worries him. He doesn’t like seeing anyone sad, but especially not his best friend.”

Sirius didn’t say anything, only humming in response. You let him twist his ring around your finger a little longer, before you laid your free hand on his knee.

“If you don’t want to talk, we don’t have to talk. But I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying here until I see that pretty smile. And if that’s tomorrow? Well it looks like I’m staying the night, then.”

He finally looked up, tugging your hand closer. “What’s this from?”

You looked down to see a little white scar at the base of one of your fingers, with lead stained underneath the skin. You nearly laughed at the memory.

“I got stabbed with a pencil.”

“What?” He asked, inspecting the scar. “Why is there gray?”

“It happened when I was a kid at school. Muggles don’t write with a quill and ink. Especially when you’re a kid, a pencil is easier to use because you can erase all your mistakes. I was playing with a friend, and they had their pencil in their hand. It slipped, and the point stabbed my finger. I tried to wash it out and clean it, but some of the lead stayed under my skin I guess. And when it healed, you could still see it. I actually forgot that it was there.”

“You never tried to heal it once you got here?” He asked, and you shook your head.

“It is healed,” you shrugged, placing your hand back in his. “But if you mean the mark, then no, I never tried to get rid of it. I don’t mind it. I hardly ever notice it, but when I do, it’s just a reminder of something silly that happened to me as a kid. It’s a good laugh.”

You pulled your legs out from under the covers, showing him the raised skin on your knee. “Remember when I did this one?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a person as clumsy as you,” Sirius mused, resting his hand on your knee. “You managed to trip not once but twice in the stands down at the Quidditch Pitch.”

You shoved his shoulder, feigning offense. “It was raining! And I seem to remember someone laughing quite hard.”

“I couldn’t help it, love. The first time looked like it hurt, but the second time was just funny. Don’t look at me like that, I took you to see Madam Pomfrey. You didn’t let her fix it?”

“I let her patch me up and give me a bandage,” you said, running your finger along the raised skin. “But I said no when she offered to try and make sure it didn’t scar. What, you don’t think it’s pretty?”

Your tone was playful, but Sirius seemed to take your words to heart. He shook his head, his face pensive.

“I think all of you is pretty. All of you, the scars too. I just thought they might bother you a little bit.”

You smiled, shaking your head.

“As silly and small as these two are, I don’t mind any of my scars. They’re all reminders that something happened to me, and I made it through. These little cuts and scrapes aren’t much of a memory worth retelling, but I’ll tell you the same thing again if I ever manage to hurt myself worse. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, no matter how big or small a scar is. They’re part of you, and I quite like the idea that they’re physical representations of a moment where you were strong. They’re unique to you and your life, and I think they add a lot of character.”

It was a long while before Sirius spoke, seeming to be lost in thought. He took your hand in his, flipping it over so he could see the scar on your finger again.

“I can’t believe I’ve never noticed it.”

“I don’t blame you,” you said, looking at the mark on your skin. “I forget about it myself unless something reminds me. I forget about most of them honestly, you know? Out of sight, out of mind and all that.”

He nodded, and you suddenly realized what may have been going on. When you walked in, Sirius wasn’t wearing his full uniform. He didn’t have his robes on, and his sleeves were rolled up. You figured he had just thrown them all off when he got back up to the dorms, but you were starting to think that may have not been the case.

You tried to gently coax out what you thought may have been troubling him. “What’s going on, love? Are scars on your mind? Did something happen?”

The way his face fell confirmed your suspicions. His vision began to cloud, tears stinging his eyes. He wouldn’t look at you, despite you gently asking him to. He was embarrassed, and you knew it. Eventually, you had to hook your finger under his chin, tilting his head up to make him look at you. You cupped his chin with one hand, running your thumb along his cheekbone with the other.

“Talk to me, darling. I’m here to listen,” you spoke, wiping away any stray tears that fell.

Sirius sighed in frustration, holding his arm out for you to look at. You gently took hold of him by the wrist, carefully looking him over. You were pretty sure what he was referring to now, but you stayed quiet. It was better to let him tell you on his own.

“Evans saw the scar from the curse Mother used on me the night I left,” he mumbled after taking a breath.

You winced, but didn’t overstep as you coaxed him to continue. “How? What happened?”

“It was hot in DADA, so I rolled my sleeves up. I wasn’t thinking about it, I just did it. She noticed it and apparently knew what it was from. I guess she figured it out from the look of it. I had almost forgotten it was there until she pointed it out.”

You frowned. Sometimes, Lily was too smart for her own good. Of course she would know what it was, everyone had studied curses similar to the one used on Sirius all year in preparation for exams. She took these lessons quite seriously in case she’d ever have to put them into practice.

Some spells leave a distinct mark, even if they’re healed soon after they’re inflicted. In all the chaos, it took Sirius quite a while to get it looked at, so it was sure to scar. There were things he could do to lessen its intensity, or he could use a Glamour charm to mask it, but it would always be there.

A parting gift from his Mother.

“What did Lily say? She wasn’t rude about it, was she?”

“No, it wasn’t anything like that,” he murmured, watching as you ran your thumb over the scar. “She was just curious how I got it. I froze up like an idiot when I looked at it, and couldn’t focus for the rest of class. I went to Potions, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about it. I panicked, and bolted for the dorms the second we were let out.”

Your heart broke as he spoke.

It wasn’t often Sirius talked about the night he left home. He hardly let himself think about it, let alone tell anyone about it. He always found it easier to block out those types of memories instead of confronting them, but this time his memories decided to confront him. And he had no choice but to sit with them. Your face fell as you imagined him sitting in class, panicked and working himself up as he remembered the worst night of his life.

Unlike most of your scars, his had a much heavier weight to them. He had a much harder time accepting them than you did with yours. He didn’t want them to be a part of him.

You felt him reach for your hand again, turning it over to look at the scar on your finger.

“You said your scars are a part of you, and a reminder of how strong you were,” he said, squeezing your hand. “Well, I wasn’t strong. If I was, I wouldn’t have gotten mine. They may be a part of me, but I don’t want to remember them. They don’t have any good memories attached to them, or any stories I want to tell.”

He may as well have slapped you in the face. It would have hurt less than the burn in your chest as you listened to him degrade himself, knowing there was little you could say that would make him feel better. He had the idea that he wasn’t strong ingrained in his mind, and it would take more than just this one conversation to make him understand just how strong he was.

He was one of the strongest people you had ever met. Brave enough to stand up to his family, and even braver to get himself out of it. He was so young, and he had already lived through so much. He woke up and managed to drag himself out of bed every day, and he did it with a smile on his face—once he was fully woken up and no longer grumpy, at least. That took more strength and courage than you’d ever have.

But he didn’t see himself as strong. He didn’t see his scars as a reminder of how strong he was. You’d just have to show him until he figured it out for himself.

“Well, we can change that,” you said, hopping off his bed to rummage through his trunk.

“What are you doing?” He asked, looking over the side of the bed as he watched you.

You pulled a bottle of black nail polish out of his things, smiling in victory as you showed him. You crawled back into bed, setting the bottle in your lap. You silently held your hand out for his arm, and he reluctantly placed it in your grip. You opened the bottle with your free hand, dipping the brush into the polish.

You traced the scar, stopping at every curve to place a big dot of polish. “I know you didn’t take Astronomy, so bear with me for a minute. See all the points? It’s shaped like the constellation Hercules. He was known for his strength and resilience. He was cursed by the goddess Hera to a life of misery and constant trials, and he did some bad things while under her control. But when he realized he had done wrong, he asked the Oracle what he could do to atone for his sins. He spent the rest of his mortal days trying to make up for what he did through a series of terrifying tasks, and he eventually paid for his sins with his life. After his death, he became immortal, and he joined the rest of the gods on Mount Olympus. Zeus placed him in the night sky with stars to represent each of his victories, and now Hercules is remembered as a hero. His strength and determination is what defines him, not his past. His stars shine bright, just like he did in life.”

After you dotted along each major point of his scar, you carefully connected the dots with a thin line of polish. Sirius watched you with soft eyes as your face twisted in concentration, your brows furrowed as you worked. When you finished, you casted a drying spell, carefully touching the edge of the polish afterwards to make sure it was completely dry.

“There,” you smiled, closing the bottle and setting it down. “Now you’ve got a story to tell if anyone asks. I think it would look really cool as a tattoo. I just might have to see if I can hurt myself so I can have my own constellation.”

Sirius mustered a laugh, making you grin as you looked up to see him giving you a watery smile. You were kidding of course, but the sentiment still made his eyes well with tears. Before you could speak, he had already hooked an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him.

“Don’t hurt yourself, silly girl. We can get you any tattoo you want without actually scarring you.”

You chuckled, wrapping your arms around his waist. “What’s the point, then? Where’s the fun in that?”

Your smile widened as he continued to chuckle, and you pulled away to cup his cheeks in your palms. You held him steady, tucking stray hairs behind his ears.

“There’s that pretty smile.”

His cheeks flushed as you spoke, and you felt your heart swell. It’s criminal, really—how pretty he is. Just looking at him made you want to burst into tears sometimes.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” he said suddenly, his hands resting on your knees. “I didn’t mean it.”

You had nearly forgotten about how he had snapped at you. The twinge in your chest from his words was long gone, replaced by the warm comfort of knowing he was alright and voluntarily opening up to you.

You just shook your head, waving it off. “I know you didn’t, my love. If I took everything you said when you were grumpy to heart, I’d be a lot worse off.”

Sirius gave you a sheepish smile. “Still. You didn’t deserve that, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, I didn’t. And you were being a git. But I’ve already forgiven you for it, so don’t beat yourself up about it. I’m sure James and Remus will do the same. Speaking of which, we should probably go tell them you’re alright. We can show off your pretty little design, too. James will be jealous.”

“We can figure out one for him. He’s got plenty of scars from falling off his broom, the clumsy bloke. He’s nearly as clumsy as you are,” Sirius teased, dodging your attacks when you picked up his pillow to smack him with.

“Be nice!” You scolded, continuing your attack. “I haven’t even gotten onto you for stealing my nail polish yet.”

Sirius finally raised his hands in surrender, taking a breath as he snatched his pillow back. “Alright! You’ve made your point, darling. Quit it, you’ll chip the polish.”

You gasped dramatically, raising your hands in surrender as well. “Well, we can’t let that happen, can we?”

Sirius rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help but smile. Your expression mirrored his, and you leaned back, resting against one of the posts of his bed.

“What were you so cheery for this morning anyway? I’ve been wondering all day,” you asked, watching his cheeks flush once more.

“Oh, uh…I had a nice dream is all.”

“Yeah?” You asked, raising a brow. “What about?”

He gave you another sheepish smile. “You.”

You cracked a grin, stifling a chuckle. You could feel your heart fluttering in your chest, a warm feeling spreading across your chest.

“You’re such a sap, Black,” you teased, but you were smiling all the same.

“Says the girl reciting Greek myths to me. Kettle,” he said pointing to himself, before turning his finger towards you. “Pot.”

“Shut up, or I’m grabbing the pillow again.”

—

A/N - Hi! I’m so sorry again for the long wait, I really appreciate you being patient. I wasn’t too sure what to write, hopefully this is what you were looking for. I hope you liked it! Let me know :)

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actress4him · 11 months

Text

Whumptober 2023 - Day 27 - The Shadow of Death

This takes place a few months after escaping from their captivity by Ethorcon. Bruno belongs to Izzy!

Taglist: @painful-pooch , @sssunshinebreeze

Masterlist

No. 27: “You drew stars around my scars; But now I’m bleeding.” | Scars | “Let me see”

Contains: lady whump, PTSD, flashbacks, fire, burns, referenced past genocide, referenced parental death, romance

Breathe in, breathe out.

Don’t turn around and look at the campfire. Staring at it too long is what started all of this to begin with.

Don’t think about the heat that you can still feel on your back.

Ignore the pain in your shoulder. It’s not real.

It’s not real.

The screams in the back of your head aren’t real. The flames that you see when you close your eyes aren’t real.

Ignore it, ignore it, keep breathing and it’ll go away.

“Kamaria? You alright?”

Bruno’s hand lands on her shoulder, and the pain erupts. Kamaria is thrown straight back into the past. The fire is everywhere, blindingly bright against the night sky, the heat making it impossible to face. Ash falls from the sky like snow. A roof crumbles, and sparks explode across the dry grass nearby, igniting even more small fires that quickly join the inferno.

And all the while her shoulder burns, burns, burns.

“Kamaria!”

The sound cuts through the nightmare. With a desperate gulp of air, the clearing comes back into focus, Bruno’s worried face hovering close by. She’d flung herself away from him, apparently, and is propped on her elbows in the dried leaves.

She can still see the campfire over his shoulder.

“You’re alright,” he murmurs. His voice fades in and out, blending with the screams still in her mind before coming into focus again. “You’re right here with me. May I touch you?”

His hand stretches out, slowly. Her eyes dart to it, and she slaps him away, scooting herself further back. “No! Don’t touch it.” It burns. It won’t stop burning.

“Okay.” He settles down onto the ground, legs crossed and hands clasped in his lap. “I won’t.”

For a moment he sits silently, watching her. Thankfully, his head is blocking the fire from view now, and Kamaria rubs at her eyes harshly, trying to get back to forcing herself to breathe and calm down.

“What is it?” he asks quietly. “What do you not want me to touch?”

Shaking her head, Kamaria clutches her arm with the opposite hand, fingernails digging into her skin. She squeezes her eyes shut, then instantly opens them again when flames dance in the darkness of her vision.

“Hurts,” she whispers. The admission makes her feel even more like a small child.

Pathetic. Weak.

Bruno tips his head to the side, concern creasing his features. “May I see?”

She shakes her head again. As much as it feels like it’s brand new, like it’s happening all over again, logically she knows that it’s all in her head. There’s nothing he needs to see. She doesn’t want him to see, doesn’t want him to know how pathetic she actually is.

“Okay.” He doesn’t push, doesn’t demand. Never has. It’s one of the many things that made her grow to care about him so much. And the fact that he continues to sit there, quietly supportive even though he has no idea what’s going on, is another.

The memories are beginning to fade, her present surroundings staying more and more in focus, but her shoulder hasn’t let up its burning at all. She lets her head fall back, gritting her teeth and sucking in shaky breaths as she stares up at the bright blue sky.

“What can I do to help? Will you…let me hold your hand?”

She hesitates for a moment, then silently slides her hand out. A second later his large, warm fingers interlock with hers. Her breath hitches slightly, then evens out as she lets herself relax, lets the contact ground her further.

The touching thing is still so new. Before their captivity, she never let him touch her at all, not even a hand on her arm. She was too busy hating him, too afraid that he would hurt her, that he would turn out to be like every other man she’d ever met. But over the past months since they escaped, she’s slowly been getting more comfortable with these small, caring gestures. To start with, her skin would crawl and itch so much that she could barely stand it, and there are still times when she can’t handle it at all.

But other times, like this, it’s…nice. She trusts him now, knows that he would never purposely hurt her. Recently, she’s even let him kiss her. Granted, she almost lost it the first time, even though it was just on the cheek and she’d given him permission, but that didn’t stop her from telling him another time he could do it again. She’s trying. She’s really, really trying, because…she cares for him. She wants to be able to be normal, to have a healthy relationship with him, more than anything else. Some days it seems impossible, but she isn’t going to quit trying.

“Does it still hurt?”

She nods slightly, face still craned toward the sky. It’s highly likely that it won’t stop hurting for days, though hopefully not quite this badly.

“Can you at least tell me what is hurting?”

He’s worried that she’s injured. Now that some of the gripping fear has passed, she can understand that. She still doesn’t really want him to know, but she owes him at least some sort of explanation.

“Shoulder.” She swallows, and tries to loosen her grip on her arm a little. “It’s, um…it’s nothing to worry about, though.”

“You’re in pain, Kamaria. Of course I’m going to worry about you.”

A slight smile twitches at her lips at how much he genuinely cares. “I just mean it’s…it’s not an actual injury. Not a new one, at least.”

“Oh.”

The way he says it makes it sounds like he suddenly understands, drawing Kamaria’s gaze finally to his face. He looks like he understands, too, and…maybe he does. She’s seen him get lost in his memories before, and she knows a lot of it tends to center around an old injury on his chest. If anyone could understand what she’s feeling right now, it’s probably Bruno. That realization simultaneously brings a warmth beneath her ribs and twists in her gut.

He smiles sympathetically at her. “Will you…please let me see? If not, that’s alright. I won’t ask again.”

She knows, intellectually, that she can trust him with this. That doesn’t make it any easier to give in. But she takes a deep breath, thinks it through, and slowly nods. It takes one more deep breath to give her the courage to actually turn around, tugging her blouse down a bit and pulling her hair over the opposite shoulder.

She’s only seen it a couple of times, but she still remembers it well. The darkness of the scar has faded some over the years, and the area stretched as she grew, but the skin is still puckered and warped, about the size of her fist. She can feel Bruno’s breath ghost over it as he leans in to look.

“It was summer.” The words spill from her lips without her consciously deciding to say them. She could stop now, she doesn’t have to keep going, but she knows that he’ll listen and understand and the story seems to be bubbling up inside of her. “The middle of the night. We were all in bed, there was…there was no indication that anything was wrong.

“I woke up to…chaos. The smell of smoke. It was so bright outside, I could see it through the window and the cracks around the door. There were…” Her fingernails press back into her arm. “There were people screaming. Mera told me to stay, she went out to see what was going on, and…” Her breath shudders as it enters her lungs. “That was the last time I ever saw her.”

Bruno’s hand finds hers again, squeezing it gently, but he doesn’t say anything, allowing her to continue.

“I stayed, like she told me. As long as I could. The house started filling with smoke, I couldn’t breathe. But I stayed. And then…there was fire. The, the ceiling, and one of the walls…I knew I had to get out of there. But the roof collapsed before I could get to the door, it…it fell down all around me and on me. Little burning pieces, all over my skin and clothes and hair. And my dress…it caught on fire, right…” Letting go of her arm for a second, she gestures at the scar. “I got out, and I…I managed to put it out, but…”

There are so many ways that she could finish that sentence. But the entirety of my village was on fire, soldiers were slaughtering my people outside my door, the women were being attacked and I still don’t know to this day how exactly Mera died, only that she was gone.

She can’t say any of that right now, though. The words have dried up, sticking in her throat, and all she can do is curl in on herself, fighting to get her breathing back under control.

Another time, maybe. She’ll try to tell him the rest someday.

“I’m so sorry, Kamaria.” He squeezes her hand again, helping pull her back to the present. “What happened to you and your people…was horrendous, and never should have happened.”

There’s nothing she can say to that, but she does appreciate it, so she just squeezes back. Bruno scoots a little closer to her.

“Your scar…may I?”

She catches his gaze out of the corner of her eye, nodding after only a short hesitation. She doesn’t know what exactly he’s asking, but she trusts him.

He leans forward and softly brushes his lips against her shoulder. Kamaria inhales sharply, surprised, but not at all upset. In fact, the kiss seems to cool her skin. Her grip on her arm loosens considerably as the burning grows more bearable.

“I wish I could have stopped them,” he whispers, head bowed. “I couldn’t be there for you then, and I can’t make it better now. But I’m here for you, Kamaria. If there’s anything I can do to help, please ask me.”

The corners of her mouth turn up ever so slightly, and she leans over until her temple is resting on his forehead. “You already have.” In so many ways that she can’t even begin to explain at this moment. “Thank you.”

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