Rudo’s hands constantly ached without his gloves, that’s why he always wore them, no matter when or where.

Except, it was such a pain when washing them— both physically and mentally.

The cool running water felt like a sting on Rudo’s hands. He winced slightly at the pain, squirting soap on his hands and rubbing them gently on the dark-black gloves.

He exhaled a breath— before the door slowly opened. Rudo turned around, seeing you standing in the doorway.

His eyes widened slightly, muttering a, “O-Oh, hey,” he didn’t want you to see him without his gloves, so in-pain and vulnerable.

“Are you okay? I heard wincing and wanted to make sure that you weren’t hurt,” You muttered sweetly. It was the middle of the night after all, maybe he was being loud.

Your eyes darted to his calloused and wrap-scared hands, and he caught your surprised gaze. He hid his hands behind his back. “I’m fine,” He replied, eyes darting down to the floor.

You hummed in response eyes full of sincerity. “After you’re done washing your gloves, meet me outside,” You whispered, then gave a smile and closed the door behind you.

Rudo didn’t get any chance to protest.

——

Slipping back on his gloves, Rudo opened the door then stepped outside in the dim moonlight.

And there you were, under the moon, sitting on a bench near the trees and gentle breeze.

You turned to him. “Rudo!” You called, “Come sit.” You patted the seat next to you, and he carefully made his way over and hesitantly sat down.

He looked down. “..Why’d you want to talk with me?” He asked.

“I just wanted to ask a question, that’s all.” You trailed off. “The scars on your hands, they hurt, yeah?”

He felt a pang of surprise at your words, his eyebrows furrowing. “They do, I guess.”

You nodded in understanding. “I have heavy scars, too. I just wanted to tell you that you’re not alone.”

His eyes widened. “You.. have them too?” He asked quietly.

Then, you rolled up your sleeve.