Can you heal old scars?

Chapter 2

He was afraid...
What else was there to say? His life had been an absolute shit show, and he was hiding from his past the only way he knew how. Block it all out and hope it wouldn't eat him alive one day, and that had sort of been working, up until now that is.

Xander sighed, running his large hand through his messy brown hair. Quin looked pale and clammy as he stood suddenly frozen from an emotion he hated deeply, the feeling of helplessness.

"Talk before you pass out, Quin. You know you can trust me, I know your shit, I'm not gonna judge you, you know that." Xander said, again pushing for more, Quin needed to get at least some of this out in the open.

Quin paced the length of the sofa and back several times, avoiding shafts of light on the floor from the slowly setting sun, before he finally worked up the courage to speak.

"What if the results come back and..." Quin started, then he paused to shake his head, placing a palm against his brow.

Xander nodded at him to continue, and Quin took another swig of beer before pacing over to the wall of windows, his own reflection catching in the light from the innumerable billboards, windows, and neon signs illuminating the city from beneath him.

His shoulder length wavy black hair was scooped up in a messy hair tie, bits of it trailing across his face. His creamy pale skin contrasting with the dark black giving him the natural 'goth rocker' vibe the studio and fans loved so much. His frame was thin, but well toned. He was about 5'9 which was fine, but when he stood next to Xander, who was 6'3 and built like a truck, he looked tiny.

He hated how he looked, hated the 'beautiful and handsome' appearance that reflected back at him. It was more trouble than anything else.

He readjusted his turtle necked shirt and turned away with a dark look in his eyes, stalking back to his chair and sitting in it with a huff.

"And...?" Xander said, snapping Quin out of his tornado of thoughts again.

"What if it comes back as... him. What if I... What if..." This time Xander was the one to slam his bottle down.

"Don't be so fucking soft! God Quin he wasn't your mate! What he did was beyond depraved, not to mention highly illegal, you were a fucking child! Christ the guy is on death row for a fucking reason, and your fate is certainly not his to control!"

Quin gulped at the sudden outburst, watching Xanders normally brown eyes flash a burning orange colour as his inner wolf snarled in anger.

Xander was normally in very good control of his wolf, Zeke. But on occasion, the usually laid back attitude would drop, and Zeke would slip through. In this case it was driven by anger and a need to protect.

Quin knew Zeke would never hurt him, knew Xander was like a brother to him and the only sort of family he had left. But Quin still couldn't help flinch away from that snarling, the flashing eyes, the impulse to run away quickly rising in his chest.

At this point it was so deeply ingrained into his psyche it was instinctual, flashing eyes meant danger, danger meant you got hurt. Don't want to get hurt, you hide or you submit.

As quickly as Zeke had appeared, he was gone again. Xander looked over at Quin with a worried and apologetic expression.

"I'm sorry little brother, Zeke meant no harm. He just gets protective, and what happened... What he did to you it's.."

Quin raised his hand to stop Xander carrying on, he just couldn't deal with this conversation right now.

The same memory played in his mind over and over, his mother laying in the hospital slowly wasting away from the stroke caused by the years of abuse they had suffered, her insistence that he never take that fucking test, so they couldn't send him back there. Him promising that he never would, and he would keep himself safe...