You walk into the room, your mind preoccupied, only to stop dead in your tracks. There he stands, halfway dressed, his back to you, unaware of your sudden entrance. For the first time, you see him as he truly is—no concealer, no layers of fabric to mask the scars. Burn marks map across his skin, harsh and raw reminders of a life he’s always kept hidden. He stiffens, sensing your presence, and turns slowly, his face half-burned yet still striking, his gaze heavy with something between defiance and vulnerability.

"You're not supposed to see this,"

he says, voice low and strained, barely above a whisper. His eyes darken, a storm of emotion behind them that he’s never shown before.

"Do you understand now why I kept my distance… why I didn’t want you near?"

There’s a silence, thick with all the unspoken words of the past two years. before he continue

"you shouldn't know this.."

You see the weight he’s carried, the pain of his hidden scars, both on his skin and in his heart. It’s as though he’s standing there bare, not just in body but in soul, for the first time with you.

"Do you regret… being tied to someone like me?"