#iktr!!!!!

quest has many scars, and most of them he's ashamed of. they bear the heavy reminder of his past, flashes his mind back to bruised knuckles and knives that don't stop digging into him even after the moment it breaks the skin.

it isn't unusual to find him standing in front of the mirror stark naked, taking in all the ways time has been cruel to him--all the ways he has been cruel to himself. a jagged line tearing through his feet up to the muscles of his calf, a hulking keloid scar that almost occupies the entirety of his right knee, ugly slashes on his arms that rise above his skin, and the ugly pockmarks on the back of his hands that involved an ugly encounter with cigarettes and an angry gang member. 

all of these scars he touches as lightly as he could, fingers feathering over the braille of his healed injuries. one by one he remembers--forces to remember--because it is his penance and firm promise not to allow himself to walk that path again. not when he has everyone on the server to take care of now. not when he has you to take care of now.

his hands ghost over the scar on his jaw, down to the mended gunshot wound that shattered his collarbone to pieces. he feels the difference in texture between his skin and the stab wound he's sewn shut in wide-eyed adrenaline-and-whiskey-filled delirium. touches the mangled tissue on his arm from a bad fall. he focuses he focuses he focuses, eyes closed in pained memory as he runs them all through his mind in fast forward and slow motion simultaneously, again and again in vicious loops.

his hand stills once it hovers on the scars directly under his chest. he takes a deep breath then opens his eyes, centers his vision on them until all of the other scars fade away.

deliberate. that's what the voice in his head whispers to him. these are different from all the others. these are intentional, done with the nonchalant precision of a doctor who has already done the procedure multiple times, and yet--and yet. it grounds quest with its gravity. they are a jagged reminder of change, a jagged reminder that he is who he is now, and that he has come far despite everything.

he feels himself smile when he remembers the first time he showed them to you. he had made sure that the lighting was just right: bright enough so you could tell they were there, but dark enough so it would be easy for you to miss them if you weren't paying attention. "quest, are these--"

"yes." he could feel his heart race, and he tensed up to the point where his muscles ached. you said nothing, just touched his scars with all the gentleness of the quiet night. he watched your fingers as they traced the half-moons on his torso. he was terrified, and rightfully so. he had never loved anyone as much as he loves you, and everything--the past, the future, the present--hinged on this moment.

he forced himself not to cry the moment he saw you smile in understanding-- 

and love. god, there was so much love in your eyes. he reveled in it, basked in it, wanted to drown himself in it. he felt a weight lifted off his shoulders, and he decided that all of the hurt he had gone through, all of the pain and suffering and loss was worth it when you pulled him close to give him a kiss.

you said so little and yet he could write volumes and shelves and libraries worth of books of what you made him feel at that moment. i will make up a word that means greater than love, quest thinks. i will make up a word that means 'i choose to love you and will choose to love you to the point where it consumes me'. 

i will make up a word that means 'what i feel for you is of biblical proportions because it is worthy to be told and retold until the seed blossoms into gospel'. 

i will make up a word that means 'this is me, beaten and broken and gnarled and so easy to be thought of as unredeemable, so easily thrown away, and yet here you are, giving me the softness i don't deserve'.