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Adolin had never seen Kaladin with his shirt off. He didn’t take it off to sleep, didn’t take it off when sparing even when it was obnoxiously hot. He didn’t even take it off when he and Adolin were being intimate despite the fact that they’d been formally courting for two months.
Adolin never asked about it, though he did fantasize about Kaladin shirtless. He’d always just assumed that Kaladin would take his shirt off when he was ready. Though the thought of Kaladin being self conscious about something like that was seemed strange to Adolin, the man trained for hours every day he was incredibly muscular he couldn’t be self conscious about how his body looked.
Adolin was coming back to his rooms after a long day of seemingly endless meetings. He was looking forward to a nice hot shower and then maybe spending some time with Kaladin if he was back from training the windrunner squires.
Adolin opened the door and froze. Kaladin was there already. This wasn’t much of a surprise, Kaladin had moved into Adolin rooms a few weeks ago.
Kaladin’s hair was damp, him having just showered. He had pants on, but his uniform coat was spread neatlyon the bed, leaving Kaladin shirtless.
“Storms,” Adolin mumbled. He felt guilty for staring but. . .
Scars, there were so many, cuts and slashes from war on his arms. Those were unsurprising. Adolin himself had lots of small scars from getting hurt sparing, it was the scars on Kaladin’s chest and back that were disturbing. Long lashes from whips across his back and chest, most of them having healed poorly. There were arrow punctures and sword gashes that were so ragged it looked like Kaladin had stitched the wounds closed himself. Then, at his shoulders there were the deepest scars, symmetric gashes that Adolin wasn’t sure the cause of.
Kaladin turned around, an expression of horror on his face. He grabbed for his jacket immediately, as if putting it on now would negate what Adolin had seen.
“Kal,” Adolin said. His voice was soft, kind. Kaladin held the jacket in his hands, not putting it on yet. He stared at the jacket, as if willing it to pop onto his body.
Adolin crossed the room and took the jacket from Kaladin’s hands, setting it back on the bed. Adolin took Kaladin’s hands in his. Kaladin still wasn’t looking at Adolin but Adolin could see the hurt in his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Adolin asked. The scars hadn’t been what Adolin had expected, but they didn’t change anything.
“Me,” Kaladin said, that one word cutting through the silence. “I’m broken.”
“No. Kaladin look at me,” Adolin said, letting go of Kaladin’s hands in favor of cupping his face in his hands. Adolin rubbed gently at Kaladin’s cheek until the man finally consented to look up at him. Adolin could see the tears in Kaladin’s eyes that he was desperately trying to keep from falling.
Adolin felt tears of his own forming for an entirely different reason than Kaladins. “You are not broken Kaladin, you’re hurt, but not broken. Never that.”
Kaladin looked away quickly , still blinking tears out of his eyes and Adolin felt something in him break a little. He was going to throttle every one who had ever made Kaladin feel this way.
“Do you believe me?” Adolin asked.
Kaladin shrugged.
“Well you should believe me. I love you Kal. Nothing will ever change that. Especially not this.”
Kaladin nodded, it was a small gesture but right now that was enough for Adolin.
Adolin’s hands went to rest on Kaladin’s shoulders and Kaladin flinched away, practically jumping away from Adolin and holding himself, like he was trying again to hide his scars. His breath was uneasy and his eyes were distant and glassy.
“Sorry,” Adolin said, words coming out in a rush. “Storms I shouldn’t have. . . Sorry.” It was like the world was tipping of fits axis. Adolin thought he knew what to do when Kaladin was like this but this just seemed so big. Such a big secret that Kaladin felt he had to hide.
Adolin reached out to Kaladin but his hand hovered halfway between them, unsure whether it was safe to touch him. Adolin longed to wrap Kaladin in a hug but feared that that would just make everything worse.
Kaladin’s breathing slowed a little and his eyes focused a little more, no longer absent but still filled with tears.
“Sorry,” Kaladin said. “I didn’t mean to. I just. . .” Kaladin paused, crossing his arms and shrinking into himself. “You touching me brought me back.”
Adolin waited for Kaladin to elaborate but when he didn’t seem like he was going to Adolin handed Kaladin his uniform jacket. Kaladin took it great fully an put it on. He only got to do up one button before Adolin pulled him into a crushing hug.
Kaladin didn’t flinch away this time. He buried his head into Adolin’s shoulder, letting himself be held.
“I should have asked if that was ok,” Adolin said. “Storms I’m bad at this.”
“It’s ok,” Kaladin said. “I. . . I want you to touch me, I just. . . might need some time.”
Adolin then led Kaladin over to their shared bed, sitting down on the plush mattress and getting Kaladin to sit next to him. “Can we talk about that? Where is it ok if I touch you?”
Kaladin’s face turned bright red.
Adolin laughed and rolled his eyes. “Oh, not like that. I mean like right now.”
Kaladin looked down at himself, his uniform coat was still unbuttoned exposing scars on his chest. He still felt somewhat self conscious, but he did want to try. He wanted to feel better. It was a strange thought, to want to feel better. So many times in Kaladin’s life he’d felt like he didn’t deserve to feel better, but here he was, trying.
“Its different if I have a short on or not,” Kaladin said.
“Ok,” Adolin said. “Then, shirt on, where is it ok?”
“Most everywhere is fine I suppose,” Kaladin said.
Adolin raised an eyebrow at that. “I didn’t ask where it was fine I suppose to touch you, I asked where it was ok. We never talked about this when we first started dating but is there anywhere that I touch you that you don’t like?”
Kaladin’s hands went to his shoulders, where his bridge man scars were. “Not my shoulders,” Kaladin said.
“Ok,” Adolin said. “I can do that. What about if you were shirtless? Not that you ever have to take your shirt off—”
“No,” Kaladin said. “I want to. I want to try.” Kaladin thought for a long moment. “My arms are fine,” that’s where Kaladin’s soldiers scars were, cuts and scrapes from training mostly. “But. . . nothing else, at least not right now, and I. . . I can’t promise that I’ll ever be ready for anything else, as much as I want to.”
Adolin took Kaladin’s hands in his. “Don’t worry about that. It doesn’t make a difference to me whether you’re ready next month or never.”
Kaladin looked up, meeting Adolin’s gaze and there was so much love there, so much quiet determination, and Kaladin was glad to be trying.
“Thank you,” Kaladin said. “For understanding, for helping. Thank you.”
“Of course. I love you Kal.”
“I love you too Adolin.”