The smell of acetone burned Jasonās nose. As it did every few weeks they did this. Timās couch was soft, his back sinking into the plush cushions. His heart kicked at the sight of his bare nails. Just there under each nail bed was a dark line. On every single finger.
No amount of scrubbing or cutting the nail as low as he could rid the lines from him. They sat as a reminder, taunting him of one of his worst moments. Dying in an explosion was a cake walk compared to awakening in a coffin. Frantically clawing at the wood inches from his nose.
Jason could never forget the smell, the taste of the dirt that crumbed from the split wood. How warm and slick his blood had been as it poured from his broken skin. Even after, when his mind had cleared and his body cleansed. The lines remained.
Gloves helped, though he found it difficult to wear them during the warmer months of the year. Still he endured it, keeping his fingers covered at all times. When he and Tim had started their rendezvous they stayed on. Only coming off if the lights were dimmed or completely off.
Nearly a year had gone by before he built up the courage to show Tim. Tim whose face remained neutral even as he kissed each individual finger nail. All while tears silently trekked down Jasonās cheeks.
Timās solution to Jasonās predicament: nail polish. He had run to the bathroom and returned with a small makeup bag. Inside where dozens of bottles of polish of all different colors. Jason chose black, simple and dark enough to fully cover the lines. Tim smiled, twisting off the cap after he shook it, he gently held Jasonās palm as he swiped the polish on.
Now every few weeks or when the polish chipped too much from their vigilante work, Tim would remove the old and repaint his nails. Sometimes Tim would take a nail polish marker or two and badly draw little designs.
Tonight was no exception. Jasonās hand rested on Timās knee as the smaller man leaned over it. His hair tied back from his face giving Jason a full view of the tip of his tounge poking out from his lips. The black polish had dried and now Tim was putting a layer of red crackle polish atop it. He glanced at his finished hand noting the clean work.
āThere!ā Tim smiled triumphantly twisting the cap on the crackle polish before he softly blew on the wet nails. āTry not to touch anything for twenty minutes.ā
Rolling his eyes Jason huffed, āI know baby. Donāt have to remind me.ā He yelped when Tim stood, shoved Jason further into the couch and bit the side of his throat.
Tim pulled back with a wink and gathered the nail supplies to put away. Jason growled in faux anger. Tim shushed him and rounded the corner into the bedroom out of sight.
Jasonās head rolled back and forth until he lifted a hand to stare at the black peaking through the cracked red on his nails. He narrowed his eyes bringing his hand closer to his face to inspect his middle finger.
This nail was all black but instead of red crackle there sat a crudely draw bat, Jasonās red bat. Jason snorted a smile playing on his face. A hand carding though his hair stole his attention. Tim held his face as he leaned down to kiss Jason. āMmm, love you.ā Jason mumbled against them.
āI love you more.ā Tim nuzzled his nose along Jasonās.
