You’d just pulled your shirt over your head when the window groaned.

Not the wind. Not the house settling.

A very human groan — followed by a muttered, “Shit—sorry—hang on—” and the soft thump of someone awkwardly climbing through your window like they’d done it a hundred times but still hadn’t mastered the art.

You gasped and scrambled for the throw blanket on your bed, clutching it to your chest just as a mop of shaggy curls appeared, followed by wide brown eyes.

Gareth froze halfway through the window frame, one leg in, one leg out, looking like someone had hit pause on him.

“…Uh…” His voice cracked, then died entirely as his gaze dropped — not to the blanket you were clinging to, but to what he’d seen a split second earlier.

Your back.

The scars.

He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. You wished he would — you wished he’d laugh, make a joke, trip over something, anything Gareth normally did. Instead he looked like someone had punched the air out of him.

“I—I was just coming to return Dustin’s stupid D&D manual he left at band practice,” he finally stammered, holding it up like proof he hadn’t intended anything weird. “I didn’t… I wasn’t trying to—shit.”

You held the blanket tighter, your throat tight and hot. “Gareth. Just—turn around. Please.”

But he didn’t.

Not out of disrespect. Out of shock. Fear. Hurt that wasn’t even his.

“Those…” His voice lowered, softened in a way you’d never heard before. “Those weren’t from… like—” He gestured vaguely, helplessly. “Not an accident.”

“Gareth.” You tried again, quieter this time, the tremble giving you away. “Please. Don’t.”

He finally climbed all the way inside, shutting the window gently behind him — like loud noises might hurt you. He kept his distance, hands raised, showing he wouldn’t come any closer unless you said so.

“Who did that to you?” he asked, barely above a whisper. No anger yet. Just raw disbelief. “And don’t say no one, because I’m not an idiot.”

Your eyes burned. Your fingers dug into the blanket. He took one cautious step closer, voice breaking as he spoke.

“…Is this why you came back?”

That was all it took for your chest to cave in.

Gareth didn’t push further. Didn’t demand answers. He just stood there, curled hands shaking at his sides like he was holding himself back from reaching out — waiting for you to tell him anything, everything, or nothing at all.

Because he’d take whatever you gave him.

He always had.