eyes cling to the branches that etch into her skin. flesh pink, puckered — he’s staring too long.
what drills pain into his chest, however, are her words. they spike self-hatred, and whilst he’s aware his voice may not help, he still tries.
“naomi—”
the name tips from under his breath. brows knot, worried, and fingertips extend to brush the soft flesh of her cheek. words jumble in his mind, dissolve on his tongue. there’s a million things he wants to say, but he’s unsure if he should.
“ don’t hate yerself… i mean, i know i wasn’t there, an’ i have no idea what y’ went through, but… don’t hate yerself for doin’ that. ”
eyes shut tight for a moment and curse words beat into his thoughts. he’s bad at this sort of stuff, always has been.
words are stuck, helplessly, in her throat. this wasn’t her sister who’s seeing this; this isn’t the eyes she was comfortable being set on her scars; this was all new to her – and she’s s c a r e d.
will he judge? turn his back on her and just leave like everyone else in her past did? think of her differently than to what he thought she was? hazels stay low. dreading to look back up to catch his expression being different; to an expression she wished to never see.
his touch sends chills through her skin; teeth biting into her bottom lip as her palm is raised to overlap the back of luke’s hand, a soft grasp. it was not fair on him – pouring out her problems onto him; how selfish she was.
