Stealth. (FtM Karl)

Kiss

Had covid for a bit but im back now yall no need to worry. I also have some personal stuff going on right now which I think it effecting my ability to write a bit, this is the most motivated I've felt in a while but I apologise in advance if the chapter isn't as you would've hoped.

Triggers: (haven't seen this in a while)
-gud ol dysphoria 😩🤚
-sprinkle 'o self doubt and insecurities
-mentions of past self harm / scars

Karl's pov:

"You feel any better?" He asks, "I would love to complement you all day, but I'm afraid I would run out of words in my vocabulary."
"Hmm, no, I think I would like to hear that list." I tease, resting my head on his shoulder and looking up at him with a smile.
He rolls his eyes at me, "no, you've put me on the spot now and suddenly I can't think of any."
"Awwww come on! Not even one?"
"Maybe one." He starts, "I need a minute though, it needs to be the best one."
"Uhuh, sure sure." I reply, imitating a sarcastic tone, "sounds like a terrible excuse"

"Oh, really?" He asks.
"Yep" I lift my head from his shoulder and look at him, "you just only have negative words for me." I joke.
"You think so?"
"Yep. You have no colourful adjectives to describe me because I'm boring." I state.
He laughs at me, "boring is an adjective. Maybe I'll just use that one."
I gasp, dramatically, "ouch. That hurts me, Sapnap."
"Wow, back to Sapnap now? What happened to Nick?"
"Nick was what I called my boyfriend." I joke, "Sapnap just called me boring."
"Well, this Sapnap guy sounds like an asshole." He plays along.
I process what he just said, "tussah." I reply, "but-"

"Peace." He starts, interrupting me, "I will stop your mouth." He quotes, pulling my face towards his, he kisses me.
I stop, "since when did you read Shakespeare?" I smile against his lips.
"You said you liked books so..." He answered between kisses.
"Yeah, but Shakespeare? Really?" I ask as I shuffle closer.
"The guy I borrowed the books from likes Shakespeare." He smiled, "am I reading the wrong books?"
"Just come to me next time. I have better taste than Wilbur."
"How did you-"
"Don't get me started." I finish, not wanting to continue talking.

The kissing continues, and the feeling is amazing. It's like nothing else matters anymore, my mind floods with happiness, like I can't seem to think straight at all. My mind is completely blank.
My hands move on their own up to his neck, that seemed to trigger his hands to move down and find their way under my sweater. Which was fine, I didn't think much of it. That is until I felt my sweater start to move up a bit.

I stop the kiss and immediately pull the front of my sweater down out of reflex and he lets go. I regret it, when I look at his face, all I see is guilt.
"I'm sorry" I apologise.
"No that was my fault, I know you aren't comfortable with you body, I wasn't thinking." He protests.

He was right, I'm not okay with my body, but that wasn't the issue.
That isn't the issue this time.
But I can't say the real reason.
I know it wasn't his intention to ever take off my sweater or even pull the fabrics up that high, but I don't want him to see the scars.
I shiver at the thought, I would hate that look of sympathy and guilt even more than this one.

I would say "no that's not it" but, what do I say after that?
I decide to just stay quiet, I'll lie, for now at least. I'm not ready to talk about... that.
An image flashes in my mind, only for a second, but every detail is vivid, the unhealthy coping mechanism I had used and the long term damages it had left.
I remember how they look now, faded yet clear, noticeable, all over my arms, on the sides of my waist, at the top of my thighs.

"I'm okay, really." I say, I give him a quick kiss on his cheek which seems to reassure him a bit, but really he is only hiding the guilt for me. Unfortunately, it's obvious. He's always been a terrible lier.

I panic, we both want to just move on from what just happened but we both feel guilty and I feel responsible, I shouldn't, I don't need to, but no matter the cause, I feel obliged to be the one to end our suffering.
I stand up and walk over to my shelf, "I'm going to show you what good books are" I announce, I start skimming over titles, pausing at possible books, "Shakespeare is okay, but those are plays, scripts; I prefer detailed stories where the stories take place in the mind, not on the stage." I explain. I pull out a book, I wince at the title, remembering the ending and thinking about how I would die to read it for the first time again.

I walk over and Nick already seems to perk up a bit, "here" I smile, passing the book to him, "it's Shakespeare themed and very good, you'll love it."
"If we were villains?" He reads the title.
"Trust me. Great book."
"Expectation is the route of all heartache."
"Did you only memorise these quotes to sound smarter?"
"Yes."