The Story of Who You are is Written in Your Scars

Scarred

Robbie jumped and choked on the cake he had been trying to eat as a sudden burning sensation grew in his shoulder. A string of curse words and a quick jog to the bathroom mirror told him that Sportacus had hurt himself again. Most of Sport's injuries were on his shoulders, elbows, hands, and knees, which wasn't surprising at all from someone like him. But still, he didn't get hurt often. And that was a good thing, Robbie thought, pulling his shirt back on. Very suddenly, Robbie wished he had a mobile phone, on which he could text. He had never needed one before, with no family or friends, but as he grew fonder of Sportacus all of that had seemed to change. Also, he needed a cell phone. He decided that ordering one online would be the best way to go, and got right on that.

Sportacus winced as the pain shot through his arm. Moving it at all was painful, and blood was starting to seep through the sleeve on his blue and white shirt. "Hey kids! I've got to go! Have fun!" He called out in his ever cheerful tone and ran off to hurriedly climb his ladder. The airship was warm and white and a complete contrast to the cool and dark autumnal setting he had just exited. "Bed!" He called, followed by "Med-kit!" He clicked off his vest, and then (almost successfully) unzipped his shirt and pulled it down to hang around his waist. Who made this costume, he pondered as he poured his rubbing alcohol on a rag. He winced as the alcohol reestablished the pain in his arm. He wrapped a smaller bandage around it and laid down, pushing the med-kit aside. For the first time, he imagined the pain this would cause Robbie. Never once had Sportacus imagined how all his sports related injuries had affected his soulmate. He had always been so worried about the cuts and pricks he himself had received. Selfish, he thought. "Apple!" He said.

     Robbie had not been allowed, not by Sportacus, at least, to eat cake until he stopped picking his scabs, Sportacus had said. And it worked. Robbie had stopped picking his scabs, and had also started eating cake again. So this time, when Sportacus slid down the pipe he had nothing to hide. In fact, he ate his cake so openly and proudly, just so Sportacus could see he had stopped.
"Did you stop?" Sportacus asked. "Yes!" Robbie replied, holding out the 's'. Sportacus smiled and laughed. He loved it when Robbie made him genuinely laughed, it was one of the better things he had ever experienced. Sportacus went and joined him in the orange chair, forcing him to scoot over.
     "Also, I bought a cell phone." Robbie added. "What? Do they even sell mobile phones in the stores around here?" Sportacus asked, though he did not move from the place on Robbie's shoulder where he had decided to rest his head. "On the internet, dummy." Robbie laughed. "What happened to your shoulder?" To which Sportacus proceeded to tell the story of how the wall had almost fallen again, and how he had almost not noticed this time.
     "Someone needs to check that out," he added when he was done. "Falling walls tend to be dangerous."
"I will," Robbie said, seemingly deep in thought. Sportacus nodded and sighed contentedly. After Robbie had finished his cake, they cuddled in silence for a while, which neither minded. It was nice, actually. But after the events of earlier, Robbie had formed a question, and it was finally time to ask, he decided.

     "So, a couple years ago... what were you doing that you scrubbed your knees so much, Mr. Goodie-goodie?" Sportacus laughed. And moved to look at Robbie.
"Actually, I was on both a basketball team and volleyball team. You might be surprised on how often you scrub your knees on the floor... especially in volleyball. Mostly in volleyball." Robbie thought for a second. "Is it even fair to have you on a sports team? I mean, I've seen you play basketball, and it's definitely not fair." Sportacus laughed once more.
     "You're right. I sat out during games. Still, I gave them hell in scrimmages!" Robbie hummed in thought, imagining ordinary guys being physically and emotionally destroyed by the likes of Sportacus himself.
     "And what about those elbows, and the fingers?" Robbie pressed further. His scars were all easily identifiable, he felt, but he honestly couldn't imagine what could bring about the cuts on Sportacus's fingers.
"The elbows are from volleyball, still. And the hands are mostly from cooking. Sometimes I get distracted when I'm cutting. And also, from scrubbing them on the sides of swimming pools throughout the years." Sportacus enlightened Robbie. It was a reminder to Sportacus how absent minded and easily distracted he was. "You cook?" Robbie asked, genuinely curious, and Sportacus didn't blame him. He didn't really seem the type, it was true.
"Yes, my mother taught me most of what I know but sometimes the airship helps if I'm really stuck. I find it better to cook for yourself than to go out. In fact, I find it better to not eat anything cooked at all, but sometimes I get bored." Robbie hummed again at that and tapped his fingers. He might just have to exploit Sportacus for his cooking skills, at some point.

      "Between the two of us, there must be about a million scars on our fingers," Robbie thought aloud, laughing. Sportacus agreed. "What are yours from?" Sport asked, snuggling into Robbie once more.
"Oh, mostly sewing. And cooking, some, too. I used to work fast food, y'know."
     "No, I didn't know that." Sportacus stated. "I like hearing about you, Robbie." He added, which really mad Robbie blush. "I love you, too, Sportafruit," he mumbled. He hadn't meant to say "Sportafruit", but he had. And he had to live with that now.