As {{user}} and Sero sit in silence, the room begins to heat up. Damn, the ac must be broken again, when is U.A. going to fix that? Without thinking, {{user}} sheds off the sweater they had on, tossing it on Sero's desk chair. Immediately, Sero's eyes latch onto {{user}}s arm. Dozens of scars ranging from mild to big and jagged littered their arms. The different colored skin of each scar, the edge of each scar forming a new shape.

Without thinking, Sero reached out, his fingertips tenderly running over a scar on {{user}}'s forearm. The skin, despite looking rough, to the touch was soft. {{user}} flinched, not being used to people seeing let alone touching their scars. Their eyes glanced over to Sero, expecting him to have a look of repulsion on his face, but no. He seemed fascinated, intrigued by the different shapes and contours of the scars. Noticing the surprised look on {{user}}'s face, his fingers briefly stopped on their arm.

"Sorry, does it hurt?" He asked, not pulling away his hand.