Work Text:
There was always a double standard when it came to the scars on their bodies.
On others, scars are beautiful. They tell stories of survival, of growth, and of perseverance.
But on your own they're disgusting. A reminder you can’t erase. Proof that you lost somehow, even if you won in the end. A mark that tarnishes a clean, perfect slate.
Tim has many. From the tiniest knick to the biggest slash, Tim has them all. But he’s come to terms with them.
It’s simple really. His body is a vessel simply meant to carry him through this life and it will bend to his will however he pleases. The vessel may have scratches and dents, but if it functions then it’s all he needs. His scars meant he was doing his job and that’s all he wanted.
He understands, however, why most don’t care for them. People want to look a certain way, to feel a certain way, to be a certain way. Their bodies reflect who they are just as much as their choice in action, preference, and word.
He understands , but sometimes he wishes they just wouldn’t care.
Tim didn’t know exactly what happened to Bernard after Louis Grieves shut down. He knows he got sent to private school, that they had cut his hair and fostered a hesitancy in Bernard’s nature that Tim hadn’t been able to smooth out. He knows Bernard had joined the Children of Dionusyus, knows that they cranked up the volume on Bernard’s quiet pain and rewired him into something new.
And that’s alright. Tim was good with computers. He could fix a few wires.
All throughout however, Bernard had been cruelly gifted scars of his own.
Tim thought they were beautiful, just another part of Bernard he got to unravel, to card his fingers through and untangle every knot until he told them how they came to be.
But Bernard hated them. He never said he did outloud, but Tim knew. He could tell from the way Bernard held himself, like he couldn’t quite shake off the phantom fingers that poked at his back. He could tell from the way Bernard preferred long sleeves and layers, always covering what he could if it wasn’t just the two of them. Tim could tell from the way that if he was gifted the chance to have Bernard bare in front of him, it took everything in Bernard to let Tim see him at all angles.
It frustrated Tim sometimes because if he were to ask Bernard what he thought of Tim’s scars, Bernard would take the time to find each and every single one and tell him why he loved them. Bernard would rather throw himself off a bridge than ever tell Tim his scars were ugly. But if Tim were to ask him what he thought of his own scars, Bernard would fall quiet. Tim knew Bernard’s quiet was never good.
And Bernard had been quiet a lot recently.
He was quiet like he was in the days before he got a new piercing, or during those nights in the few minutes before he checked how long his hair had gotten. But this quiet had been hanging around for a while. A piercing never came and it continued even when his fingers left his hair the other night.
Tim waited for the pen to drop.
Eventually, it dropped in the form of a drawing stuck in Bernard’s notes.
“Did you draw that?” Tim asks. Bernard looks up from his laptop and at the drawing infront of him. It’s a clutter of different little birds all fluttering about on the sketch paper. “It looks professional.”
Bernard bites at his nails. “No, a friend of Austin’s did it for me,” he explains. Tim hums.
“They a painter?” he asks. Bernard shakes his head.
“She’s a tattoo artist.”
Tim looks a little surprised. He supposes this is what had pulled Bernard so far back into himself.
“Are you… thinking of getting a tattoo?” Tim asks calmly. Bernard keeps following each little detail with his eyes and shrugs.
“I…I think so,” he says hesitantly. “It’s kinda been in and out of my mind but… I really like this one.”
“You got a place for it in mind?” Tim asks.
“All down my back,” Bernard answers.
It stings just a bit. The birds are most likely being used to cover the scars all on Bernard’s back. Tim thinks Bernard is handsome, cute, pretty even, but Bernard doesn’t. He wants to paint himself in permanent ink because he can’t think of himself like that, and it’s not that Tim doesn’t like tattoos, it’s just that they’re being used because Bernard doesn’t like a part of himself that Tim finds beautiful.
But it’s Bernard’s decision in the end and Tim supports Bernard’s self expression.
“When are you getting it done?” Tim asks. Bernard freezes for a second.
“I uh, don’t know. I haven’t been able to fully decide,” Bernard mumbles. Tim carefully picks up the drawing and looks it over. It really is very pretty.
“Well, if you like them that much then you should get them. They’re cool,” he says. Bernard taps his fingers a few times and looks at Tim.
“You think?” he asks. Tim nods.
“Yeah. If you think you’ll be happy then you should go for it,” he says, handing the drawing back to Bernard. Bernard runs his thumb over the bird in the bottom corner.
“Okay,” he says confidently, picking up his phone and sorting through his contacts. Tim smiles and goes back to his work.
-----
Bernard had been scheduled for a six hour long session two weeks later. He had told Tim, buzzing with excitement, that Allison, the tattoo artist, had said she could get him done in one day since the bird’s weren’t too big and weren’t too complicated, only needing to be spread over a large space which would take longer.
Tim was happy for him, and was even happier when Bernard had asked him if he would come and keep him company. Tim couldn’t be there for the entire six hours due to work, so he and Brenard worked out that Bernard would start without him and Tim would come by for the last three to four hours.
The day of the appointment Tim had gotten pictures of the stencil on Bernard’s back and a picture of Bernard waving to him while on the table. As soon as he had finished with his work Tim rushed over to the shop where he busted in and waved to Austin before finding Bernard lying down on a table in the back. When he gets close Allison looks up from what Tim can see is the fourth bird, little wings stretched over a pink scar, and nudges Bernard.
“Hey your boyfriend’s here,” she says gently. Bernard’s head turns from where it’s tucked into his arm and sees Tim standing over him smiling. Bernard immediately lights up and Tim ruffles his hair.
“How you feelin’?” he asks. Bernard flashes a grin.
“Can’t feel a thing,” he says slyly. Allison snorts and Tim rolls his eyes. Austin ends up bringing over a stool for Tim and checking out the progress before telling Allison that the break comes up in about thirty minutes. They get about halfway through, perfectly in time with the break, and Tim gets to really look at the work that’s been done.
It’s beautiful and he can’t wait to see the finished product. The bird’s are flying all over Bernard’s back, each scar tucked neatly under the veil of ink, and they each look soft and crisp, ready to beat their wings and take right off of Bernard.
“It’s amazing Berns you’re gonna love it. You want me to take a picture so you can see?” Tim asks. Bernard shakes his head.
“Nah. I’m gonna wait."
Tim doesn’t press, instead changing the subject and telling Bernard about what he’d been working on recently, even talking to Allison when she had sat back down to start up again.
Tim thought she was cool, downturned eyes and firm way of talking taking charge of Bernard’s care. Apparently she wasn’t with the Children like Austin and Bernard were, just a simple bystander watching her friend get sucked up into something she didn’t understand. Tim figures that they share a common ground with that.
The rest of the birds come to life eventually, and by the time Tim’s legs get stiff they finish up. They wipe down Bernard’s back and put on the ointment before Allison pulls out the cling wrap.
“Alright listen Bernard, you’re gonna stand up and we're gonna wrap this around you. When we finish I’m going to run through the care checklist with you and then you can be on your merry way, but if Austin tells me it got infected- so help me god,” she starts.
“I got it, don't worry,” Bernard laughs, lifting himself off the table and latching onto Tim when he gets on his feet. They take the tube of cling wrap and bring it around Bernard’s torso a few times before calling it a day and letting him put his shirt back on. He still didn’t want to see it yet.
They thank Allison and Austin and leave the shop to go back to Tim’s for the night.
-----
Bernard doesn’t look at it the entire recovery period. Tim however, sees it everyday.
Bernard asks Tim for help with putting on the ointment and moisturizer everyday, and Tim always makes sure he cleans his hands before and after so he can trace each feather with his fingertips. When they go to bed together Bernard has to stay on his stomach or his side so he doesn’t irritate it and Tim counts each line like sheep to fall asleep. Tim gets to see how beautiful it is everyday and Bernard just won’t .
Tim doesn’t understand but he wants to.
It’s on the last day that they need to put everything on the tattoo that Tim asks him about it.
Tim is spreading the ointment on his hands when he stops and looks at the birds one last time.
“Do me a favor, Berns,” he says. Bernard hums. “Look at it.”
Bernard freezes.
“Not… right now,” he says hesitantly. Tim frowns.
“Why not?”
Bernard doesn’t answer. Tim’s frown deepens.
“If you don’t look at it I’m not going to help you,” Tim tries. Bernard stays quiet and Tim turns to wash the ointment off his hands.
“ I’m scared ,” Bernard whispers. Tim stops.
“Scared of what?” Tim asks slowly. Bernard shakes his head and shrugs.
“ I don’t know. I don’t know and if I turn around I’m scared that what I don’t know will be even worse,” he says.
“ You’re gonna love it Bernard. There’s nothing to be scared of, and you're going to have to see it at some point. It’s better to just get it over with now instead of letting it fester and feeling worse later,” Tim says. Bernard sighs, frowning with fists clenched, and slowly turns around opposite of Tim. “I promise Berns.”
Bernard cranes his neck back and peeks into the mirror. When his eyes meet the reflection they widen. Tim grabs his hand and squeezes.
“What do you think?” Tim asks. Bernard is still in a trance, but Tim can see his eyes water up. “Is that a good cry or a bad cry?”
Bernard chokes a laugh. “ Good .”
Tim lets out a breath and nods. “See? Told you.”
He reapplies the ointment and lotion probably about five times just so he can let Bernard look as long as he can, but they both eventually get tired of standing around in the bathroom.
They get in bed and Bernard lies on his side while Tim wraps his arms around his waist and pulls him close.
“They’re pretty birds Bee, but the scars are even prettier,” Tim admits. Bernard shakes his head.
“ I hate them ,” he whispers. Bernard finally saying it out somehow hurts worse than his quiet.
“ I don’t ,” Tim insists. “I love them, Berns. They show me how my Bernard grew, survived, persevered .” Bernard starts to shake. “They show me you're still my Bernard but more .”
Bernard cries, quiet tears falling down his face and Tim pulls back from Bernard to scoot down. He moves forward to kiss each bird and each little scar that got left in the spanse of Bernard’s skin. Each little white streak, each pink scab, each divet in his skin Tim found.
“ Beautiful boy, ” he whispers against his skin, “ Beautiful boy, beautiful boy, beautiful boy. ”
-----
In the morning Bernard tells him they’re robins.
Tim almost cries.
Instead he smiles and kisses all over Bernard until his neck aches.