Bar Red's Redemption ✔

c h a p t e r. 26

It was a curiosity that stole his attention away, that didn't even have him notice the elevator ride or the silent way Clementine walked the whole way towards her room.

It was a curiosity that had his head swimming.

Bar's scars were like burn marks on paper, something unsightly. Something disturbing, an echo of danger.

But hers... they were something different entirely.

Bar understood now that Clementine wore her scars like she wore earrings that she could hide behind her hair. She did nothing to minimize the one on her face but wore long sleeves that hid the rest easily.

Bar knew the shame that coexists alongside pain; alongside abuse.

He knew the mental damage of what something like that scar was could case.

Bar felt that, if he asked about them, she'd laugh and say: they were a decoration not yet ready to be seen but always put up— this holiday is all year round.

Bar didn't know how she handled anyone— including the three of them who witnessed her tumble and what laid underneath that now torn shirt— seeing what marred her skin without freaking the fuck out.

He had freaked out when Clementine saw his scars.

How was she so calm?

If that was him and his scars, Bar didn't know what he'd do but it wouldn't be pretty.

His scars were something he kept close to his chest— literally and figuratively— and they weren't for public knowledge. This he'd keep to himself. This wasn't meant to be looked at and viewed as if it was an exotic animal at the zoo.

Even if, on most days, Bar felt like he was a lion in a cage, roaring to get out but everyone around him was deaf.

And Bar, despite what he thought, didn't know how the little goddess felt about him seeing her scars so he kept his gaze away.

The little goddess didn't mean for him to see, so he'd try not to until she was comfortable and said so.

Bar had very great respect for Clementine, after all.

He knew how to respect a boundary even when he didn't know why it was put into place.

"Sweetheart," Bar began softly, not quite knowing what to say or do. "Are you okay?"

Clementine nodded, "I'm fine— I-I just didn't... um, expect that."

Bar knew what she meant. He would've seen eventually but even inevitable things can be shocking and painful.

"I'm sorry," Bar truly meant it as he places a soft kiss to her forehead. "That I saw without your consent, babygirl."

"It's okay, grumpy." Clementine, with slightly watery eyes, kissed Bar and then pulled away. "I'm going to, to get d-dressed."

Bar nodded and watched as she timidly stumbled off.

The brute didn't want to leave the goddess by herself when she had that upset, isolative look in her eyes but he had to.

Quickly getting dry and dressed into his shorts, since his piercing were still wet along with his necklace and he no longer cared if Clementine saw his scars, before going out into the maze that was her house and tried to find her room.

He didn't, and what he found were six pairs of wide, blue eyes staring at him.

Six sets of blue, unrelenting, unblinking eyes that belonged to six different, disturbingly similar blonde, shockingly copy and paste women.