A/N: Hello, lovelies. This chapter contains sensitive content, I want you to be prepared before reading. Thank you.

Love from,
BunnyBaekkiee ❤️

~ 🌸 ~

I lead Christian into the house, and I don't know how to act and I don't know how to bring up the subject of his past. I nervously bite my lip as I lead us into the kitchen, and open the fridge for anything to eat that'll provide me with a distraction. But the fridge is basically bare, and feeling panicked I spin around on my heel and blurt, "I'm sorry, we have no food!"

"That's okay," Christian mutters. "I'm not really hungry."

I nod and twist my fingers together as I close the fridge, and rake my brain for any sort of distraction. And then I remember the pile of laundry sitting in the basement needing to be folded, and once again I'm blurting out, "I have to do laundry!" before I'm quickly walking towards the basement stairs.

Christian follows after me, and says, "I'll help you."

"That's okay, you don't have too," I say.

"I know, but I want to," Christian replies sincerely.

I blush at his blatant honesty, and when we reach the basement, I flip the lights on and go to the table we use to fold our clothes. I empty the basket over the table, and immediately grab the first thing I see and begin to fold.

I can feel Christian watching me, but I'm too nervous to meet his gaze, and after a moment of silence has passed he says, "I've lived here my whole life, but my parents kept me at home. They didn't have a reason too, they just did. But when our business started to pick up, they couldn't homeschool me and run their restaurant at the same time so they signed me up for school. I liked school, and I made friends quickly enough, but....I made the wrong friends. I had never experienced peer pressure before public school, and I knew how to say no, but I was the new kid who wanted to fit in. They offered me weed one day after school, and being the need kid without a lot of friends, I wanted to feel popular so if doing drugs would make me popular than that's what I wanted. It was so stupid . . ." Christian trails off.

"My first year of public school, I was able to maintain control, but when seventh grade happened things got bad. My grades dropped and I stayed out too late and quit listening to my parents, and eventually my mom found the drugs I hid under my bed and they got me help . . ." Christian trails off and inhales a deep breath before saying, "I went to rehab, and the last three years I've been getting better. My parents were hesitate in letting me go back to school, but after I told them I found this group of kids who were going through things too, they gave me a chance."

"And meeting you guys has been the best thing for me," Christian admits. "You're all so close, and you care for one another furiously. It's a nice change of pace."

I listen to everything he has to say, and I don't speak until I'm sure he's done talking —- and when I do, I'm surprised to realize I'm not as afraid of sharing my own story as I would have been if it was anyone else but Christian. Its just that, my story is a hard one to hear; a hard one to relive. But I want Christian to understand me; I want him to see me and to understand that if he wants me, he gets all of the bad along with the good. There is no more choosing one over the other —- there is no choosing only a part of me to love. I can't be with another guy who only chooses what part of me they want to love.

"I use to get bullied more than I do now," I softly mutter, "and some days it was really bad."

The room has fallen silent besides our breathing and my voice, but the quiet in between isn't awkward. It's the kind of silence that people experience when they're listening to what you have to say, without any judgement and need to voice their own opinion. Christian is respectful to me like I was to him, and he doesn't judge me because he knows my pain like I know his own. Both of us are hurting in different ways, and just maybe, we can be the ones to heal each other.

"A little over a year and a half ago, the bullying I experienced was worse than it is now, and all because there was this guy I liked. Funny thing is, I never even knew him, he was a part of the 'populars', and much like Garrett, he saved me from bullies. I guess I should have learned after that and not even looked twice at Garrett, because after everything, I learned that other guy only helped me and went out with me on a dare. When I found out . . ." I trail off as the memory wraps around me, and tears roll down my cheeks at the pain it dregs up.

I can feel Christian watching me, but I can't bring myself to look at him. I don't want to see the pity in his eyes when he looks at me, the sad outcast who's too pathetic to help himself. So I quickly wipe my cheeks and force a weak smile before I continue by saying, "It was all a trick, and people made fun of me for believing it was real. I was so naive and vulnerable, and people were merciless! They called me the worse names and pushed me around, and I left school that day in tears. I remember going home, but with out any idea how, I just remember standing in front of the bathroom mirror . . ." I trail off as I sniffle and wipe my cheeks again. "My mom was working late, so I had no one to talk too and my thoughts consumed me. Even now I can't remember deciding to do it, but I remember wanting the pain to end so I . . . cut my wrists," I whisper as silent tears roll down my cheeks. I can still feel Christian watching me, but I refuse to meet his gaze, and then I hear the floorboards creak beneath his weight when he moves closer to wipe away my tears, which only makes my tears fall faster.

He's too nice, I think. Why? I mentally shake away my thoughts, and then my memories consume me once again and I become too lost in my past to acknowledge him as I continue to say, "I cut my wrists, and I barely noticed the pain because all I could think about was how great it would feel to end it all. I'd suffered too much abuse for one day, that I just couldn't image going back to face it just to experience it all over again...."

I drift again as I remember putting the razor blade to my wrists and dragging it through my skin, and a cold shiver races up my spine, I shake it off as I say, "But then I thought of my mom, and how much I'd hurt her if I left. So I called an ambulance, and....and a few months later I met Peter and everyone else, and I haven't felt alone. They brought me back, and I'm so grateful they did because despite everything that happened to me and continues to happen, I don't want to leave this life until I have to when I'm old and gray. This life, with all it's pain and imperfections, is beautiful when spent with the right people. I don't want to give it up," I softly say as I glance up to meet Christian's gaze, who is standing beside me with nothing but understanding reflecting back at me.

Christian sighs and slowly reaches out to wipe away the last of my tears as he softly says, "You're so beautifully strong, Beau, and I'm so grateful for that strength. I can't imagine this world without you . . ." And then he gently takes my hands as he asks, "Do you trust me?"

Do I trust you? I think. Yes, I've never trusted someone so much. And yet, I've only known you for a few days, and you already feel like someone I can share anything with.

"I trust you," I whisper.

I trust you with my life.

Christian nods as he slowly moves his hands further up my arm, and he stops when he touches my wrist and softly whispers, "Then let me heal you . . ." My breathing hitches, and I know what he's going to do and I'm nervous and afraid, but I don't want to pull away. I want Christian to know me, and my scars are a part of me.

Christian's gaze doesn't waver from mine as he slowly pushes my sleeves up, and then his eyes glance down as he brushes his thumb over the old, pale scars. He glances at me again and softly whispers, "Trust me," as he bows forward and gently kisses each scar.

My eyes well up with tears, and my breath is caught in my throat and it's hard to breathe. Watching Christian kiss my scars nearly pushes me over the edge, and I can feel the cold bead of tears rolling down my cheeks. He's so delicate and understanding; he doesn't judge me for hurting myself because in his own way he understands. And when he looks at me, I'm filled with a warmth and I know without even asking that he feels the same way as I do. Christian is special, and I know he'll be the one to save me from myself.

A small moment of silence passes between us before he hushedly says, "I-I've been wanting to ask you something for a while now."

"What is it?" I softly ask.

"I . . . I want your permission to kiss you."

Word count: 1,694

~ 🌸 ~

A/N: 😊

Oh this chapter. I hope everyone enjoyed it, and thank you so much for your support. Don't forget to share this story with your friends. Thank you, have a lovely day/night!

Love from,
BunnyBaekkiee ❤️