Shoto's gaze remained away, unable to look at you.

He wanted to. God, he wanted to look at you. Hold your hands. Let you kiss his pain away.

But you were just friends. This is something he knew and attempted to fathom.

Shoto's head is done, fists balling up tightly until his knuckles grew white.

You stepped close, attempting to lift his head, but he turned his head away.

"My scar is ugly," He whispered. "Don't look at it."

You'd never seen him so .. vulnerable before. So shy, so hesitant to be looked at. You stepped close, wrapping your arms firmly around his torso.

Shoto hesitated, but melted almost instantly. His arms locked around your waist and torso, his hand cupping the back of your head and his forehead resting against your shoulder. He held on, squeezing his eyes shut.