USM One Shots

Facades

 Hey guys! This is inspired by "Facades" by NightlightFury. The beginning is more inspired than the ending, though. If you can't tell, I'm kinda out of ideas. On Friday I'm going to my aunts house, so on the way I'll come up with ideas.

 The rose in the image up above represents Peter; it seems kind and beautiful, but if you get too close, you see and feel the thorns. The hand represents new beginnings for the rose: it's true form has finally shown and is ready to show the world. The stars represent all the possibilities that could happen after being plucked, while the moon and trees represent fate- a fate that cannot be avoided.

----------------------------------------

"Good job! You did great!"

I did nothing.

"You're getting way better!"

Was that sarcasm? Because I'm getting worse and worse. 

"You've taught us so much!"

I've taught you nothing.

"Thank you."

For what? Nothing?

"You're amazing!"

I'm fake.

"One day, I know you'll save us all."

How can I if I can't even save myself?

As the compliments come, his smile fights to stay up. They all thought they needed him; they don't. He keeps up the fake smiles, the fake laughs, the fake jokes. They never questioned him. Never questioned what went on in his head. Because they never saw him.

They never saw the boy who was broken and shattered. The lost boy. The trapped boy. He was shattered; physically and mentally. They couldn't hear the voice in his head. They never saw the scars o his arms. They never felt his pain. Because they never understood him.

He was good at keeping the facades up. The two sides of himself. Never let the wrong side show, he tells himself. It would end badly.

And one day, he finally slipped..  

-----------------------------------------------------

He was having a fairly nice day, having woken up early and eaten a good breakfast. His training was going nicely and he felt as if nothing would go wrong. But he should't test his luck. Because he was very, very wrong. 

"MF 4-73."

That's what he called out. But why did he choose this one?

He was getting into position when his teammate suddenly grabbed his wrist. He wasn't ready and his guard was down, so he let out a very loud, and very unintentional, wince. The room went silent. He took in a shaky breath, looking around in horror. Shit.

As he looked around the room, he knew what they all were thinking though most had masks. Their thoughts were clear.

He felt the grip around his wrist tighten. He tried to pull away but the grip was firm. With every agonizing second Peter felt as if the scars on his body were glowing for everyone to see. The grip loosened but he did not try to pry his hand out of the grasp, for the fear of more pain weighing down upon him.

He felt the glove that hid his scars be taken off slowly, and to his own surprise, he did nothing to prevent it. As the glove softly fell to the ground, he let out an agonizing gasp as the realization dawned upon him. They had seen his scars. They saw his scars. They see his scars.

(A/N I'm listening to believer by Imagine Dragons and I'm trying so hard not to laugh at the irony of this song)

"P-Peter?"

Peter looked over at a horror-stricken face he knew all too well. He tore his gaze away, looking at the same thing everyone in the room was staring at. His scars.

Long, jagged lines, old and new, stretched across his wrist. No villain delivered these scars, and everyone in the room knew it. The scars were too precise. They were from one thing, one person. Himself.

"Sam, I need you to let go." Sam's hand was still gripping his friends' wrist, for he was too shocked to do anything else. But still he shook his head, refusing to let go.

His facades had dropped.

--------------------THE END--------------------

This was short. Okay then. Hope you enjoyed this, I guess.