Jason doesn't have anyone in his life as understanding as you. He knows he doesn't always make the right choices - but with you there's no expectation to. You love him simply because he exists and it's a feeling so foreign, so scary and nerve-racking, but one he wants to get used to no matter how long it takes.

It's especially nerve-racking in the domestic moments like these; times where he's standing in front of the mirror to critique and observe every flaw on his body, even when you are so determined to make him view his vessel differently. To you the scars are part of his story, to him they are mistakes and daunting memories of the past. How someone could see them as beautiful is beyond his comprehension.

"You're weird," Jason mumbles, almost to himself. His eyes are narrowed as your arms snake around his ribs, holding so tight like you're scared he'll disappear.  "They- they're ugly. I mean, really, I can't look at 'em too long without getting nauseous." A pitiful attempt at a laugh escapes his lips. He's hoping it's enough to fool you.