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”I love your scars” North said, voice low in the darkened room, breath hot against the naked skin of Night’s chest. Against the welts and dips of scar tissue.
For a moment, the headlights from a passing car painted the walls in patches of white light, casting hard shadows before the room was mostly dark again.
“Please.” Night huffed, irritated, feeling bitterness bubbling up inside him. “Stop talking rubbish, I’m already in your bed, no need to try and flatter me.”
North drew back, lifting himself up on his elbows, face suddenly hovering right above Night’s own, a moving shadow barely discernible, the faint light from streetlights glimmering in his eyes. Night couldn’t be sure, but he thought North looked serious.
“I’m not.” North spoke, words heavy with a finality that dared Night to try and protest.
Night felt the bitterness twist inside him, churning and turning into anger.
“Yeah?” he spat, “So what the fuck are you on about then? Are you mocking me?” he pulled his hands away from North’s back, pushing against his chest, hard enough to make North lose his balance and fall to the side next to Night.
Furious, Night got out of the bed and began to search for his clothes in the semi darkness, finding a pair of boxers and pulling them on without caring who they belonged to. He just needed to get out, to get away from here. As he was pulling his pants on, a hand gently closed around his wrist.
“Night, please, calm down.” North begged. “If you just let me explain-“
“Explain what?” Night said flatly. “There’s nothing to explain. I thought you were different, turn’s out you weren’t. End of story.”
“Night, please wait.” North pleaded, desperate for Night to understand. “Please, you need to listen!”
“No, I don’t!” Night easily pulled free of North’s hold, scanning the room for a shirt, any shirt, eyes blurry. “I don’t.” Night all but whispered, voice cracking and shoulders shaking as he came to a stop, standing still with his back towards North.
“Do you have any idea, North?” Night said, voice low and wobbly. “Do you have any idea what it took for me to open up to you like this, to let you in close? To let you…to let you…see.”
Night tried his best to hold back the tears, but it was no use, they burned his eyes and fell hotly down his cheeks as the sobs wracked through his body. Suddenly there was a solid warmth against his back as North wrapped his arms around him, holding him close against his chest. Night knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t resist leaning back against North, desperate for the warmth and the comfort as he cried, unconsciously reaching up a hand to rub viciously over his scars.
North rested his chin on Night’s shoulder and spoke softly into his ear.
“I know, my Night. Believe me, I know.” North whispered. “And I am so very grateful that you have.”
Slowly, as if afraid to spook Night, North reached up and took the hand rubbing against the scars in his own. Stopping the frenetic rubbing before Night could hurt himself, he held both their hands there, gently pressed against the scars.
“I am so sorry that my words hurt you.” he continued, “It wasn’t what I wanted to do. Far from it.”
Night drew in a shaky breath, “Then why did you say it?” he said, sounding defeated.
“Because I meant it. I love your scars. I really do.” And North sounded so earnest, so caring, so warm, that a flicker of hope kindled in Night’s chest.
“Why?” he breathed.
North tightened his hold on Night, pressing them impossibly close together, and when he spoke again there was an urgency to his voice, a plea for Night to listen, for him to understand.
“Because they mean that you are here.” North kissed Night’s cheek and then pressed his own cheek against it.
“I love your scars because they mean that you are alive.”