#(sav)

The cave was filled with music playing from Paul's ‘’rockbox’’ and it echoed off the stone walls around you. You lounged back on a rundown couch, one that smelled heavily of weed. Marko was sitting next to you with his jacket in his lap and a needle in his hand, sewing something new onto the extravagant piece of clothing that was already so full of life. You watched over his shoulder as his fingers moved the needle in precise movements, avoiding pricking himself while attaching a new patch to the sleeve.

Paul was squished against your other side, arm draped over your stomach, legs hanging off the couch, and his face buried in your shoulder. His back was bent oddly into this strange position, and you asked twice if he was sure he was comfortable, but both times he brushed you off and said he was perfect. Maybe he was sleeping, or maybe just being really calm, but you definitely tried to stay still.

David was sitting in his normal wheelchair, reading a book silently, and Dwayne was somewhere out of view, rearranging one of the many piles of random stuff they had. You could hear the rustling of fabric and clinking of metal and glass, but with Paul lying on you, you couldn’t turn to see.

Unknowingly, you had begun to dig your index nail into a sore spot on your arm, picking at a scab that had formed over a small cut you got last week. You picked the scab off your skin just enough to fiddle with it and rub your nail over the sore flesh underneath.

Still using your nail, you carefully ripped up the scab little by little until it flaked to the floor, leaving the sensitive redness underneath. You glanced down at your arm, continuing to drag your finger over the spot until you noticed redness gathering under the thin layer of healing skin.

You bit your lip, glancing away from it and trying to focus on Mark’o sewing again, but your eyes kept wandering back to the small wound.

You wanted to pop it so bad, just seeing the tiny bump. You knew the consequences, obviously. You had plenty of scars, some on your face from acne, others on your arms and shoulders for picking at any bumps that showed up until they bled. Only once your skin felt flat did you feel satisfied after picking, but the scab forming would always cause itchiness or some slight irritation.

So the process would start again, picking at the raised skin until it bled and eventually formed a scar. You even had small spots on your scalp where you’d anxiously scratch over and over, trying to get rid of the scab, but only making it bleed.

Usually, it was from anxiety, but also out of boredom. Sometimes, standing around at work with nothing to do with your hands would cause you to start picking at your nails. 

Maybe there was some kind of sick pleasure in smoothing out an area, or just the feeling of peeling scabs was satisfying. But whatever the case, you were faced with this situation. You knew you shouldn’t touch it. It was gross and could probably cause an infection if you kept messing with it.

You willed yourself to look away from it, crossing your arms carefully as Marko finished his sewing and tied off the thread. He showed it to you and smiled, causing you to smile as well. He packed up his small sewing kit, sticking the needle into a pincushion, and closed the small box of supplies before rising to his feet. He stretched his arms over his head, croptop lifting higher on his abdomen.

Your arm itched, and without thinking, you dragged your nails across the itch, only to be stung by a small burn or irritation. You looked down, and yup, your scratching had ripped open the wound you had just convinced yourself not to pick. You exhaled firmly, not quite a huff or a sigh, just disappointment in yourself.

The blood came fast, spilling from the wound and puddling on your skin. It didn’t stay in one place for long and started to drip down your arm. You barely had time to react when suddenly, all heads snapped to look at you. The smell had already caught their noses and their full attention.

David had looked up from his book, Marko looking down from where he was standing, and Paul finally extracting himself from your shoulder. You couldn’t see Dwayne behind you, but you felt his eyes burning into the back of your skull.

Your throat became dry as you looked at the blood, then at the boys. You had done relatively well before with not picking your skin when you hung out with them, at least not to the extent of bleeding. But now, felt like you were under a spotlight. 

Sure, your scars were always visible to them, and so were some of the scabs, but they didn’t ever ask about them. Scars weren’t their business, and they loved you anyway, whether or not you had scarring. But now, you felt a lot of shame washing over you. You quickly tried to wipe it with your other hand, but it just smeared. You could feel embarrassment slowly turning into a sick feeling in your stomach. You went to wipe at the bleeding opening again when Paul caught you by the wrist.

“Hey, hey, what’d you do? Did you hurt yourself?” He asked, concern lacing his tone as he rubbed his thumb to wipe away a smear of blood.

“N-no, sorry. I just scratched a scab I shouldn’t have.” You quickly blurted, feeling panic building in your throat.

You tried to pull your wrist back, but Paul held firm. Then you felt Dwayne standing behind you on the other side of the couch, leaning down to lift your arm. “Is this where you get all those scars from?” He asked bluntly, causing your face to heat up.

You opened your mouth to answer, but you couldn’t find the words to. Having everyone staring at one of your biggest character flaws was not how you had wanted to spend your time with them tonight.

“Marko, go get some bandages,” David commanded in a soft voice that only David could do when ordering someone around.

David stood up from his chair, crossing the space quickly towards you as Marko disappeared somewhere behind you. David reached out and took your arm from Paul and Dwayne, examining the marks and the blood trickling down your skin before kneeling in front of you. He leaned in, then ran his tongue over the blood smears, gently licking the actual wound, and you hissed softly as it stung. You could feel the hunger radiating off of him, off of all of them, but it was suppressed. You were hurt and it wasn't the time to get worked up. Not when you felt this insecure.

Marko returned with bandages in hand and handed them to David, who unpacked one band-aid and placed it over the open wound gently. Dwayne began rubbing your shoulders, and David wiped his saliva off your arm before releasing it.

You sighed, rubbing the bandage on your arm as David stood up and gently took your chin between his thumb and index finger to tilt your gaze up.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.” He stated simply, before leaning in and brushing his lips against yours in a soft kiss. His stubble tickled your cheeks a little, but it was a familiar feeling. One that reminded you exactly how much they love you.

He pulled away, licking his lips before fully releasing you and turning back towards his chair. Dwayne pulled you back by your shoulders, leaning over you with his dark hair falling down and framing both of your faces. You tilted your head back, resting your head against his stomach as he leaned down to kiss you as well. You exhaled through your nose, feeling the embarrassment lifting off of your shoulders.

Dwayne pulled back, brushing his fingers over your hair and over one of the sores. “I’ve got some hair stuff for sensitive scalps… might help the sores heal.” He hummed, then moved away back toward the pile of stuff he had been working on previously.

You looked at Paul at your side, who had found a pen and was making a doodle of a bat on the bandage. He saw you looking at him, then smiled and leaned in to kiss you, too. He peppered kisses on your lips, cheeks, and the tip of your nose.

As you were busy getting showered with affection from Paul, the couch dipped next to you as Marko returned. He cupped your cheek, stealing your attention from Paul to kiss you instead. You laughed softly against his slightly chapped lips, but leaned into it.

Every day, this cave felt more and more like home. And knowing your boys were there to soothe your insecurities? It made your heart feel ten times fuller.

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