Wake of the Dead | Two

Chapter Twenty-five | Killian & Jasper

Just when the tension was becoming unbearable Jasper finally said, "Why not?" Killian only found his frustration mounting. Jasper wasn't angry. He wasn't disappointed. He didn't yell, he didn't get violent. He just...spoke. Calm. As if Killian hadn't said anything that should warrant any explosive reaction.

Killian could feel his heart beating hard in his chest. So hard that it was like it desperately wanted to escape. Gripping the bed beneath him as hard as possible in an attempt to ground himself Killian spat, "You should hate me. All I've said to you, every single insult, demeaning comment, condescending tones—it's all been to shove you away, and you're still here."

A snarl wrinkled at Killian's lips as he continued, "You...you're not like anybody else I've met. Just yell, get mad at me! Everything I've done, you're just sitting there, looking at me. I've tried to do everything in my power to stop people from getting close enough to hurt me, but you come along and just ruin that." Killian shook his head, "You shouldn't love me. I've done nothing to deserve it." Before he could stop them, the aching in his heart summoned tears to his eyes. "I don't deserve it." He repeated.

Silently, Jasper turned Killian's chin to look him in the eyes. Killian refused, glaring down at the bed sheets beneath them. He couldn't stop the tears, which only made him more frustrated, leading to even more tears. Killian hated how easy it was to be vulnerable around Jasper—rather, he hated that he was perfectly comfortable being vulnerable around him.

"Killian," Jasper said softly, "Don't ever think like that. You deserve so much more than you've been given." Killian tore his eyes away from the bed and forced himself to meet the other man's eyes. "If I could change the way you see yourself," Jasper murmured softly, "Then maybe you'd understand just how wrong everybody else is." The man set a large hand on Killian's cheek, tracing his cheekbone with his thumb. "As long as I'm here, nobody can hurt you."

Taking a few deep breaths, Killian closed his eyes tight, unsure of what to do. His attempts to catch his breath didn't work too well. "My father," Killian said shakily, "He wasn't a good man, Jasper. He drank a lot. That's why I hated that bar. It just..." It was hard for Killian to speak, to explain everything. But he had to eventually, so he forced himself to. As the first words tumbled into the open, the others poured out. "He would come home every day angry. I don't know why he was so...so mad at me. I didn't do anything. But he," Killian clenched his jaw. "He hurt me. A lot."

"Those are where all of my scars are from," Killian said. Tugging his shirt over his head, he hesitantly set it aside. The cold air on his bare torso was something very familiar, but very uncomfortable. He closed his eyes tight, hugging his arms close to his body. He wasn't self-conscious, he was scared.

Hearing a quiet and sharp intake of breath from Jasper, Killian pinned his eyes to the sheets beneath him. Jasper's thumb traced the outline of the scars—the terrible echoes of the past—etched deep into his back, right between his shoulders. Just over his shoulder, Killian could just barely snatch the marks left on him, a permanent reminder that his father would always be with him, if not in presence then in the haunted memories of his mind. "He did that to you?" Jasper's voice shook. "Why?"

"Father lost custody of me for a while, until he got me back I was sent to live with Jackson. In Jackson's gang, there was another guy I liked." Killian explained softly. "So I was an idiot. I told the pastor at the church father and I went to—because I was raised to think that was a sin. Obviously, the pastor told him. That's how he found out." Killian shuddered, "I thought they could 'cure' me. But...life doesn't work out that way, I guess. They hurt me instead."