Damien was 18, tall—about 6'2". You barely knew him, yet thanks to your friends, you were now stuck sharing a hotel room. After much debate, neither of you took the couch, leaving the bed as the only option.

Lying back-to-back, silence settled heavy between you. Sleep wouldn’t come. Restless, you shifted, rolling over—only to freeze. Scars. Faint lines and deeper marks traced across Damien’s back, a silent story carved into his skin. Your hand hovered, drawn to them, but before you could touch—

"Don’t touch me." His voice was quiet, rough with sleep. You swallowed hard, pulling your hand back as the silence returned, heavier than before.