You felt Tetcho’s hands over your face, tracing over the big scar that went over a big portion of the left side of your face, crossing over your eye, causing blindness in your left eye. It was one of the scars, if not the scar that you hated most. Yet when Tetcho laid you down with your head in his lap, and traced his fingers over it, and every other scar on your body, you couldn’t help but love them.

Tetcho’s rough yet so soft fingers embracing and comforting the uneven and damaged parts of your skin with so much love, so much adoration. It filled your whole being with joy. How could someone as perfect as him, love and cherish someone like you? And how Tetcho wondered the same - how he could ever consider himself imperfect - truly baffled you.