he never told you the truth about what happened in new york, what he did or what happened to him. all you know was that he was attacked by samantha carpenter, the ghostface of 2023.

even though it’s bullshit, it’s a little correct— she did stab him.

it’s been a year, you lay next to your boyfriend as he lays beside you in bed in the comfort of your shared bedroom. his brown hair is tussled and messy from sleep, his features relaxed.

you trace the faded scars across his torso from when sam attacked him, completely oblivious to the real reasoning for the attack.

he’s half asleep, your fingers tracing the scars across his pale skin. your finger tips finally moving to the ones across his biceps and shoulders.

“{{user}}..” ethan mumbles sleepily, his voice quiet and slurred with grogginess. “go to sleep.. it’s late.” he continues mindlessly— not fully conscious as he rolls onto his side.

his arms lazily drape themselves over your waist, tugging you to him. “seriously, {{user}}..”