#fluff bluelock

Bunny Iglesias opening up to you!

Tw: child abuse, abandonment

(only a headcanon theory i saw on twitter)

Bunny was touching his scar before you got home. The small hand mirror in his hand, the soft plush digits touching the cross-like scar, almost as if he was ashamed of it. When you pushed the door open, he didn’t hear it.

After stepping into the luxurious apartment, you pulled your soaked coat off of your shoulders, hung it on the coat-hanger and then took your shoes off. “I’m home Bun.” You greeted as you looked up at him. The way he quickly hid the mirror in his pocket and the fact you saw him move his fingers away from his scar like it burned them, that didn’t go unnoticed by you. Usually he’d greet you with a soft smile, saying something along the lines of ; “welcome home darling.” But there wasn’t a single word that got out of his mouth, only the pained way he looked at you with his red eyes, looking at you like he wanted, no, needed to say something but he didn’t think he was allowed to.

You stepped up to him, pushing a strand of hair out of his face. “What’s the matter darling?” You asked when he looked at you like he was a monster. “Do you ever think my scar is disgusting?” He asked after a beat of silence. You remained frozen, why would he think of such thing? “No. I’ve never saw it as disgusting. At first I thought it was odd. I’m curious about it, not disgusted.” you reassured him softly, the words hitting too close to comfort. He laid down against your chest and played with the soft ends of your hair. “I think I need to talk to you about it. Promise me you won’t be scared or anything.” He asks, the words carefully picked out before he even said anything. “I promise.” You murmured against his hair.

It took him quite a while to figure out how to explain it. At first, he was sure just throwing some random words to explain would do, but he really wanted you to understand him, to understand what he went through. “I was abandoned when I was a child.” He started. “I got sort of adopted by the church, and since nobody knew my name, they called me bunny, because I jump high.” He said, looking up at you from your chest like a tiny child wanting comfort. You wrapped your arms around him with a chuckle, now understanding the name.

“And the last name ‘Iglesias’ means church. I’m a foundling.” He tried to find the words, wanting to explain everything to you. “Foundlings were usually treated harshly. And since they thought I looked odd, I was an easy target. Everyone was disciplined physically, never a good education. That’s why I was scared when you kept raising your voice or putting your hands up. I kept thinking I was gonna get disciplined.” He murmured into the soft fabric of your shirt. “That’s what happened before I was able to leave that living hell.”

Your breath hitched as you held him, you pressed him tighter against your chest and kissed his forehead. “I’ll never let you go back. I’ll never act like that. I’m here Bun.” You comforted, kissing his head all over like a lovesick puppy. And he smiled. really smiled.