G/T One-Shots

Scars

-it's short idc-

"Okay, you first."

"Fine, which one do you want to know about?" Conner asks, moving aside his curly blonde hair to reveal a scratch on his forehead and taking off his jacket to show his arms.

"Left ankle, I've kinda wanted to know about it since we met." I look over the side of the table down to his legs.

"Oh," he chuckles, pulling up his pant leg to reveal the long white mark. "That was really funny... also illegal... but mostly funny. So I was running late to get home one day, and you know how they're starting to put in tiny parking hour locations in certain spots on the human side of the border?"

"Yeah."

"So I didn't know they set one up really close to my house, and I wasn't watching where I was going and there was a tiny car there. I tripped over it and the windshield wiper caught my skin and ripped it down my ankle," he explains.

"Oh my god," I cover my mouth with my hands. "Did you break the car at all?"

"Definitely, but only the front. The hood was all busted up, I tore the wiper clean off and pushed the car into the curb, popping a tire. Needless to say the owner of the car was pissed," he examines his ankle. "We didn't have to pay much, but still my parents were so mad though. Your turn. Left forearm, it's the only one I can see well." He adjusts his wire-framed glasses.

A long indented line runs up my arm. "Pretty simple. Angry giant friend with a mechanical pencil didn't like the joke I made."

"Jesus Christ. People are fucked up. Are you good?"

"I only went to the ER to remove graphite stains underneath my skin, it's chill," I reply. "Collarbone."

"There was this really aggressive tiny once, and I tried to pick him up and I examined him and shit, and he dropped onto my collarbone. He had a knife on him."

"Fuck, are you okay though?"

"Yeah, it was pretty deep but healed quickly. Let me get a look at you." He leans in really close and I feel awkward. We've been friends for a long time, though, so I'm not easily intimidated. "There's a light one above your eye."

"Cat." Need I say more? He laughs. "Wrist."

"Cat." We both break down laughing. "You've been through too much shit."

"You too," I reply.

"Can I do anything to keep you from getting hurt so much?"

"Promise you'll be more careful?"

"No promises for myself, but I'll always protect you," Conner smiles.