Archive of Our Own ^beta

William feels his hands gently and slowly being taken into Vyncent’s own, calloused fingers pressing lightly onto his palms. The look in Vyncent’s eyes is soft as he rubs his thumbs over chipped nail polish and chewed fingernails. His fingers move up to William’s knuckles and gently brush over a long scar that spanned across them.

The touch is delicate and warmth pleasantly zaps across the surface of William’s skin as he exhales slowly. It seeps through his skin and into his bones like honey, a satisfying feeling for him and his tired mind at this hour.

“How did you get… these?” Vyncent whispers, breath trickling onto wounded hands as his brows subtly furrow.

Scars always come with a story to accompany them, all of which vary in severity, damage and impact. It seems like it’s William’s time to share.

“Trip during fourth grade,” William replies, voice low as to not wake anybody else sleeping. “Tried to get something out of a bush; turns out, nobody told me it was thorned.”

Vyncent hums as he traces over the scar for a few more moments longer before his hands move up to William’s wrist. He rubs over an indent in his skin, caused from wearing his bracelet too tightly today, as his gaze moves up William’s arms. One of his hands goes up to another scar, now mostly faded onto his right arm, and touches it gently.

“What about this one?” Vyncent asks.

Ah, that scar. It hasn’t exactly got one of the most… pleasant stories to go along with it, but at least it’s manageable in comparison to some others.

“Some drunk person threw a bottle at me,” William manages to respond. “It was already shattered.”

Vyncent’s lips shift into a small frown as he brushes over the scar, seemingly lost in thought. William wanted to know exactly what he was thinking. Was he thinking about how it was not deserved? Was he thinking about how William dealt with the aftermath?

(William knows that him being attacked that night wasn’t his fault. That person was clearly intoxicated and not comprehending things, while William was just a person in their way.

His parents weren’t home that night; they were probably out on some business trip or whatever they would call it. He had to patch himself up alone, in the dark and in deafening silence.)

The hand on the scar carefully moves up William’s shoulder and over to his collarbone, but suddenly stops at the hem of his shirt. Vyncent’s eyes widen a little as he stares at the sight in front of him. A thin scar on William’s right collarbone that links into a large amount of scar tissue that extends across his entire chest, a portion of it covered up with his binder. The tissue is faintly pulsating cyan, sticking out against the darkness of the room.

Vyncent looks up from the scar and at William, tilting his head to the side slightly. William understands his request and nods. Sure, Vyncent can not be subtle sometimes, but William knows and spots out the moments where he is.

Warmth spreads onto the scar as Vyncent shifts his hand onto it. William can’t suppress the shiver that gets sent through his chest and down his spine in the process. The contrast of it in relation to his unnaturally freezing skin is jarring at first but easy to sink into. It calms his heart and his nerves into not running away, to not flee from this softness exuded by someone who he knows cares about him.

This scar is the worst of the worst, both physically and mentally. Physically speaking, it’s horrible to manage when he ends up getting it damaged by any means. Whether that be by accidentally spilling hot water onto himself, getting attacked by a villain or even just twisting a muscle there, it hurts; and it hurts badly.

It’s worse for him mentally as well in comparison to some of his other scars. The story itself is painful to recount (not to mention that he doesn’t quite want to remember what happened that day), but this isn’t a stranger he’s telling this to. It’s Vyncent. Kind, compassionate and stupid Vyncent. William can tell him about this without shame or judgment because Vyncent would never judge him for what happened.

“Hey, Vyn…” William beats Vyncent to it.

Vyncent tilts his head up again. “Yeah?”

“Do…” William turns away from Vyncent’s gaze as he attempts to get the words out of his throat. “Do you remember when I died?”

Vyncent hums, although it’s with a questioning tone. “What do you mean?”

“On the train.” William clarifies, voice cracking mildly.

Vyncent sharply inhales and William can feel the worry that emanates off of him. It’s terrifying and heart wrenching, but at the same time it’s strangely comforting. He nods in recognition.

“It came with it, I guess,” William’s head shifts back to face Vyncent. “I don’t exactly know why, but I think it has to do with the wisps, given the… color.”

Vyncent hums again as his fingers leave the scar tissue and go up William’s neck. William tries keeping a straight face as the warmth tickles his side, but he can’t help lightly chuckling at the sensation. Vyncent's hand gingerly cups his cheek and brings his other hand up from holding William’s own to properly hold his face in his hands.

There’s more on William’s face. One is on his cheek, obtained from a miscalculation in avoiding a throwing knife from a lesser villain. A larger one spans across his nose bridge, that along with many small scars across his body were gained from that car crash from many months ago.

Vyncent traces over all of them with care and affection. It makes William’s heart melt as a soft smile creeps up his face. He’s holding him so gently, like he’s something precious and valuable and loved.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Vyncent leans in and presses his lips onto William’s nose bridge. He holds them there for a few seconds before moving them onto the scar on his cheek, breathing in and out softly. William’s lip quivers at the feeling against his skin.

Vyncent presses gentle kisses to his collarbone, his arms, his wrists and his hands. Every scar gets poured with love and unspoken wishes to be well. He gives and continues and he doesn’t stop giving William what he is to him. Adoration, meaning and love.

Vyncent looks at the scar tissue on William’s chest and tenderly kisses it, placing his forehead against it as he whispers something indiscernible against it. Although, William can make out what he’s saying by the end of it.

“I love you, Will. Stay safe for me.”

William presses his own lips against the top of Vyncent’s head in recognition and keeps it there as Vyncent buries his head into his shoulder. He wraps his arms around Vyncent’s shoulders as he wraps his around William’s waist. Warmth seeps into his waist and blends into his spine, making William shudder slightly with a shaky sigh that leaves his throat.

And at the end, William accepts the fact that he is loved.