Today is the day you’re planning on telling your boyfriend about your scars.
As much as you want to keep them tucked away, you know that hiding scars from someone you’d trust with your life shouldn’t be on your list of worries.
You knock on Jimin’s door, tucking yourself further into the leather jacket to enjoy its last few moments of refuge despite the increasing warmth outside.
He doesnt take long to answer the door, and you grin as he pulls you in for a chaste kiss before leading you back to his bedroom.
You both felt like a movie night in for this date, so you decided you might as well tell him now so that you wouldnt have to be uncomfortable in the hot-as-hell sweatshirt you always wear to hide your scars.
As soon as the door closes, you whisper “now or never,” quietly to yourself and slip off your jacket, slinging it over the back of his desk chair.
It’s dark in the room and Jimin’s back is towards you, so you thankfully get a few more seconds to prepare yourself. You shouldn’t even be this worried, right? It’s in the past now. He probably won’t think anything of it.
“Jimin.” You call. He hums in response, not pausing whatever he’s doing over in the corner. “Jimin i want to tell you something.” Your voice is suddenly more croaky, and he turns around worriedly.
You sit down on the edge of his bed, and he wastes no time in coming to sit beside you.
“Are you okay?” He asks worriedly, reaching a hand out to grab for yours before pausing and retracting it. “Are we okay?”
Already feeling terrible about your word choice, you waste no time in shutting that thought down. You’re not leaving until he tells you to go. “No, oppa, no, we’re fine. I love you, it’s just…” You trail off. How do you put this? “There’s just something i haven’t told you, and i can’t hide it any longer.” You finish.
Not like that, you decide. That was definitely NOT how to say it.
You can feel him move away slightly, breaching himself for weekday you’re about to say.
“No!” You exclaim, “No, it’s nothing like that. It.. it’s silly. I’m embarrassed for making such a big deal of it in the first place, i just don’t know how to…” you trail off again. Finally, you give up on trying to voice it and lift your wrist instead.
You find yourself turning away, unable to look as his eyes slowly find your marked skin.
He tries to speak when he realizes what you’re showing him, but he’s at such a loss for words that his attempts crumble into stuttered, broken sounds.
His hands wrap around your wrusts, thumbs brushing over your skin as he takes a minute to compose himself.
“(Y/n)..” he croaks. “How could you do this to yourself?” You crumble, looking back at him to see his eyes teary and his expression hurt as if you’d done it to him rather than yourself.
“Jimin-ah, it was so long ago, it doesn’t matter anymore- it’s okay.” You reach your other hand up to cup his cheek, and he leans into your touch. A single tear slips past, sliding down only for your thumb to swipe it away.
He lightly shakes his head ‘no.’ “Jagi, it may be okay now, but it still matters. It still matters and its not silly in any way. This is you- something you did to yourself for some reason and everything you do matters to me.” His voice is soft as he speaks. “Everyone has scars, and every scar is beautiful in its own way- it’s just hard for me to think of you giving the scars to yourself, willingly at that. I don’t want to think of it. You’re so beautiful and kind, i wish you would see yourself as others see you. As i see you.”
You smile a little at his speech, trying not to tear up. “Thank you, Jimin-ah. I’m glad i told you. It’s not exactly easy wearing that sweatshirt all the time.” You joke, trying to lighten the mood
He understands what you’re trying to do and goes along without hesitation, because he knows you well enough to know you need a break. He quickly gives your wrists a peck and pulls you down on top of him on the bed.
“We can finish this talk later, we have a movie night to start now.“
right now a lot of young people in europe have to listen to their parents and older relatives ranting about conchita wurst because they dont understand what she represents and its easier to attack what you dont understand than trying to accept it