^ +1 respect to anyone who's heard the song before. Same artist who inspired 3am, but the chorus fits.
~~~
. *. ~. *. ~. *. ~. *. ~. *. ~. *. ~. *. ~. *. ~. *. ~. *.
You can't see my scars, they finally went away
You can't see the scars but I still feel the pain.
. *. ~. *. ~. *. ~. *. ~. *. ~. *. ~. *. ~. *. ~. *. ~. *.
~~~
-Darryl's POV-
When I wake up, Zak isn't next to me.
This sends me into a panic for a few seconds, considering that last time I woke up and he was gone, he was having a panic attack in the bathroom. That was awful, and some part of me thinks the same thing might've happened again.
I scramble out of bed, throwing the bedsheets to the floor and running to my bedroom door, throwing it open. First thing I see is Zak, staring at me beyond confused.
"What was that about?" he asks. "I know you're up later than usual, but school doesn't start for another half hour." Zak giggles as his eyes drift to my hair, which is presumably a mess. "Besides, no offence, but you look like you needed the extra sleep."
I stand in the doorway, pouting at the last sentence. "You muffin" I mutter, a smile creeping across my face. "Zak you didn't seriously think we were going to school today right? Police gave us time off until Wednesday to recover from what happened."
The shorter boy pauses midway through throwing his baseball kit in his bag. His eyes light up for a second, then turn sad as he stares at the kit.
"Oh. You're still allowed to attend baseball practice, just because it makes you happy. We still have to do the schoolwork anyway, just on delay." A smile appears on Zak's face. "Yay!" he giggles, punching a fist in the air. "Didn't want to miss practice!"
He stops for a second, eyes widening as he looks away from me, then back almost instantly. "So you're telling me..." he says slowly, in thought as he speaks. "That I get to spend the next two days out of school with my boyfriend, and I don't miss practice?" His eyes watch me eagerly as he waits for a response. I nod my head. He cheers again, jumping up in the air for impact. "Hell yeah!"
"Hey! Careful with those injuries."
My eyes drift around the room, taking in the mess that I've been too tired to clean. The walls are splattered with blood, it looks like a horror film. Good decision of mine to turn off the lights last night, the sight of the room would've sent Zak's panic attack crazy.
Last night...
I smile to myself, remembering sitting by the windows and watching the stars with him.
And when we kissed...
It was like having butterflies in my stomach. It was just me and him, entranced in our own world of each other. I could've happily stayed there forever. Everything was just so perfect.
The way he makes me feel...
I'm snapped out of my daydream by just that, a light kiss on the lips. I jump suddenly, startled that Zak is now right in front of me. One minute I'm staring at the ceiling, him on the other side of the room, next he's right here.
He giggles softly, knowing damn well I was in a daydream and he scared me. Zak's such a troll sometimes, he likes to be annoying.
For once, I pull away first. Zak pouts at me, folding his arms and huffing like a child. He unfolds them, wincing as he tries to pull the hoodie sleeves further over his hands and presumably scratches a scar in the process. My eyes scrunch up in the sudden wave of pain that hits me as I begin to wake up properly, and so do his.
"Well as much as I'd like to just kiss you all day, I have some things to do." His faded smile returns slightly. "Like sorting that" I say, drawing a circle in the air around his arms.
Zak grabs my hand as I do so, tracing the outline of a larger circle around himself. We both laugh. "Yeah, I guess all of it needs sorting. Your head, your wrists, everything."
"Touché" Zak smirks, opening his phone and showing me my reflection in the camera. Truthfully, I did look awful as well. The cuts on my face hurt like hell, and I generally looked like I'd just got out of bed, which in my defence, was accurate.
I made my way towards the kitchen, turning on the main lights in the apartment as I went. The room suddenly flooded with light, causing us both to squint.
The knife block is still on its' side, one knife missing out of it. The largest knife is the one missing, the one Zelkam used. I shudder, deciding to throw out the knife. I'm not sure I can ever use it again.
"Zak, would you mind bringing over the knife?" I ask quietly. Silence is my only answer. "S-sure" he stutters, voice trembling significantly.
Almost all of the cupboards are open, they have been since I first woke up after being knocked out. Zelk must've rummaged through them, looking for something. I scan the far left cupboard, finding a box of painkillers.
The room is in complete silence, and not a comfortable one. Suddenly it fills with sobs, panicked whispering uttered among the tears. I turn around to find Zak in a ball on the floor, shivering uncontrollably. His head is buried within the ball, and he's rocking back and forth slowly.
One of his hands is outstretched towards the coffee table in the direction of the knife, fingers shaking. He retracts the hand, then swiftly moved it back again.
Stupid Darryl. Stupid. Why would you ask him to get the knife? That's literally what he had a panic attack over!
I'm so stupid.
"Zak! Oh my goodness!" I drop the painkillers back in the cupboard and rush over to the crying boy. The first thing I do is move the knife, which takes all of my willpower to do.
The knife scares me too, but not as much as him. Every time I see it, visions of what happened flood my head. Zelk cutting my scars open, slicing the blade across my cheek.
Tortured. I was effectively tortured.
Calm down, you're doing this for him.
My knuckles are white from how strongly I'm gripping the knife. Holding it at arms length, I take it over to the trash can and drop it inside, making a mental note to cover it in other stuff so nobody sees it and freaks out.
That knife has caused enough damage.
I'm honestly surprised the police didn't take it. They didn't need evidence, Zelk owned up to everything he did. I'm so glad there's no CCTV anywhere near here, or they'd arrest Zak too for attacking Zelkam.
Zak.
I turn to him, scrunching my eyes as my cheeks throb in pain. Zak's pulled himself up onto the couch, sat with his head in his hands.
It's a sorry sight. He's anxious far too often, and it hurts my heart a little more each time. He didn't deserve to go through this, nobody did, but I know he thinks otherwise. Guilt runs through that boy, he blames himself for everything.
Memories of the first time we met flood back to me. Images of the frail and broken boy who approached me in the library four weeks ago. The one who was always pulling his sleeves further over his hands, hiding his pain from the world. How my heart melted as he hugged the dog in there, happiness seeming almost alien to him at the time.
He's come so far since then. That boy has dealt with more problems in a few months than most adults do in their entire lives, and he's only seventeen. I just wish he'd see how amazingly strong he is, I'm constantly in awe at his resilience. He's the most amazing person I've ever met, and I'm honoured to be his boyfriend.
"Awh Zak..." I mumble, snapping back to reality at the sight of another wave of tears. To my surprise he stands up, walking towards me and wrapping his arms around me tightly.
"I'm sorry, I should've known better than to ask you to do that..." I whisper, running a hand through his hair as I return his hug with the other. His chocolate eyes settle on mine, brimming with tears. "I'm sorry too" he croaks. "I need to get over it sooner or later, it just all came flooding back to me..."
We stand like that for a few minutes, my arms wrapped around the sobbing boy. He cries a lot, and always for good reason. It's awful how much he's had to endure. Even though he's past it happening, the memories still hurt him. Two lines from a song I heard a while ago come to my head.
'You can't see my scars, they finally went away,'
'You can't see the scars but I still feel the pain.'
~~~
-Zak's POV-
I'm not sure how long I spent crying in Darryl's arms, but I'd guess it was about 15 minutes. He picked me up and carried me back to his bedroom sometime in that time, but I don't know when.
All I know is that I cried until I couldn't anymore, finding comfort in his arms like I always do. Normally he'd try and stop the tears, but he seemed to know I needed to cry this time. He always knows these things somehow.
The tears spilled over the bedsheets and Darryl, some even reaching the floor to mix with the still scattered bloodstains. They really needed sorting.
Deciding I was halting the productivity and happiness, I forced myself to stop. My body seemed about out of tears by that point anyway, eyes stinging as I tried to cry tears that was no longer there.
My eyes were red and puffy, the pain from them mixing with the pain that knife inflicted. And the cuts from the party from when Vincent shut the door on me, which I still haven't disinfected.
I unwrap my arms from around Darryl, moving away slightly. A smile creeps onto my face, a forced attempt of happiness . My legs swing off the side of the bed, I'm too short to reach the floor.
I'm so fed up of being sad...
Darryl leaves the room, returning shortly after with his phone and a box of something. He pulls out the first aid kit from the top drawer of his desk. I've lost count of how many times I've seen one of those, or even that one in specific, over the past week.
Taking care of myself was quite obviously never one of my first priorities. Darryl has taken it upon himself over these past few weeks to make it his priority, which I did feel bad about at first.
Now he's the one who calls me dramatic when I force him to let me take care of him even if he gets something as small as a paper cut.
Darryl pulls out a couple of things, roughly shoving the rest of the contents back into the box and shutting the drawer. He turns to me, an assortment of things I've never seen in his hands. There's another collection of things on the table. "You first" he says, smiling slightly in an attempt to lighten the mood. I roll my eyes. "No, you. Have you seen the cuts on your face?"
"Yours are more serious Zak."
"That doesn't make them any more important."
"Actually it does-"
We both burst into a fit of giggles at my stupidity. Of course you treat the most serious injuries first, they need the most urgent attention. My attempt at an argument against Darryl was flawed.
"Ok, fine" I hold both hands up in surrender. "Just... please be gentle..." I mutter under my breath. Everything hurts like hell, which is most likely my own fault for not treating anything sooner. I scorn myself for sleeping so long I didn't get a chance to help Darryl with his own injuries.
A gentle kiss lands on my forehead. "I will muffin" he says kindly, giving me a comforting smile. He takes a gauze from the assortment on the table, soaking it in some sort of liquid. It's probably for the best he's helping me first, I'm not sure what half of this stuff is, let alone what it does.
The older boy reaches towards me, brushing my hair away from the cut on my forehead. "This is going to sting a little alright?" he mumbles, avoiding my eyes. My gaze also drops to the floor, a weak 'oh' escaping my mouth.
Suddenly, his eyes scrunch up again in discomfort, causing him to put down the gauze. "Sorry..." he mutters, gently opening his eyes again. "Hey, it's fine. Though you should take some painkillers if you have any really..."
"Oh- right!" Darryl reaches across the desk and grabs the small, white box he brought in earlier. He opens it, taking out four little white pills. "Here, I meant to get these earlier" he hands some to me. We both take two each, Darryl's attention immediately returning to the gauze afterwards.
He scrolls through his phone with one hand, selecting something. The speaker on the far
side of the room lights up, the coloured light casting a red hue over us.
It's Darryl's speaker, of course the light is red...
He clicks a button on the device, and a song begins playing quietly.
I'd recognise that song instantly every time. It's the song I played in his car after he was humming it to comfort me. By this point, I recognise it as our song.
I'm constantly playing it when I'm alone now, it's my comfort song I play on the way to every party. It reminds me of him, bringing with it all the good memories we've had.
The opening chorus to Blinding Lights plays, and I can't help but sing along quietly. Darryl takes my hand in his, singing with me.
~~~
The song plays on repeat as we take turns medicating each other's wounds. Darryl has to explain to me what half the stuff is and how to use it, but I get the hang of using the gauzes after a while.
After, we clean up Darryl's apartment. It's a little hard to do, especially knowing that the majority of the blood is Darryl's. I tasked myself with cleaning the floor as I was too short to reach all the way up the walls, which I later regretted when I came to a certain spot.
That spot was the one Darryl was first laying in when I came to save him, at Zelk's feet. There was so much blood there it wasn't even completely dry. A panic attack threatened to take control again, but I overcame it with Darryl's help.
Now we lay on our backs in the centre of the newly cleaned carpet in the main room, the same song still playing in the background. You'd think we'd be sick of it after almost 3 hours, but it resonates fond memories.
I decide to save the moment, pulling Darryl closer as I take a selfie of us together. He does the same, and I'm filled with happiness as I see his wallpapers. The lock screen is the same as mine, it's our first kiss. Dave being Dave took a picture and sent it to us both.
We laugh realising they're identical, then laugh even harder once we see each other's home screens. Mine is a picture I snuck of Darryl back when we were at IHOP, and his is a picture of me he snuck at IHOP. By this point we look like two crazy people, just in hysterics on the floor.
"Ooh! I have a fun idea!" I say, a wide smile appearing on my face. "What is it muffin?" he asks, still laughing. I drag myself up into a sitting position, pulling him up with me. "How about we switch phones. First to guess the other's password gets to change their contact name in the other's phone." Darryl flashes me a wicked grin. "Alright, you're on" he says excitedly, passing me his phone.
We sit in concentration for a few seconds, trying to figure out what the other's password would be. Darryl's is a six digit pin code, as supposed to mine which is a word. It doesn't even tell you how long mine is, this'll be easy.
I try a couple different things, such as Darryl's birthday and his locker code. It takes me about two minutes until I get it right.
"Ta da!" I squeal triumphantly, shoving his now unlocked phone in his face. Darryl hands back my phone. "How did you guess it so fast?" he asks in shock. I giggle at his naïvety. "It was my birthday you muffin, it's not that hard."
"Hey that's my word!"
"Not anymore!"
The older boy pouts in defeat. "At least tell me what yours was..." he mutters.
"Photosynthesis."
"What?! Why that's so long to type out each time!"
I take my phone from him, pressing my index finger against the bottom of the screen. My phone unlocks.
"Because who needs to use the password when you have fingerprint recognition?" I giggle.
"Oh my goodness..."
Darryl reaches across for his phone, and I hold it out of his reach. "Nope" I giggle, waving a finger at him. "I get to change my name."
The older boy sighs, folding his arms as he watches me change my contact name. I hand him the phone. "There." He watches me suspiciously, eyebrows furrowed. "So what did you change it to?" he asks.
"You'll just have to find out when I text you next, won't you?" He sighs heavily, rolling his eyes at me. "So I can't just check it?"
"Nope. You have to wait."
"Fine."
~~~
The afternoon approaches swiftly, casting a darker glow over the apartment. Darryl decides against going to Baseball because of his injuries, but knows better than to try do the same with me.
I swing my duffel bag over me, the long strap leaving the bag hanging near my hips. Darryl's eyes light up suddenly. "Oh! That reminds me!" He rushes to his room, returning with something in his hand. "This is for your other bag. I saw it and thought it was cute." He hands me a little appliqué in the shape of a muffin.
"Be careful with your injuries!" Darryl warns, pulling me into a hug. "But also have fun muffin." I angle his head towards me, standing on my tip-toes to kiss him. Our lips collide softly, moving in sync. I pull away, looking at the little muffin he gave me.
A sign of us, to add to my bag of little memories.