Imagine: Christian trusting you enough to let you touch him and you tell him stories from your own past to let him know he’s not alone. A/N I don’t even know what this is, but triggers are angst and abuse. x
“Are you sure?” you ask not wanting to push Christian. You’ve known him for the better part of six years and you know how he feels about being touched. He nods taking a deep breath and unbuttoning his shirt.
“I’m sure,” he says slipping off the shirt exposing his scars and naked upper body. You inhale sharply knowing that while he stays calm on the outside, he’s shaking on the inside.
“You’re beautiful,” you whisper looking up at him. He hasn’t got that spark in his eyes that you’re used to furthermore proving how difficult for him this is. You lift your hand and place it on his chest causing him to clench his jaw.
“When I was little, my dad would get drunk and beat my mom. He made me watch to let me know that nothing was stopping him from doing it to me,” you whisper feeling a single tear drop. You made peace with your past a long time ago though never having told Christian about it.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters back clenching his hands into fists. You lift your other hand so that they’re both resting on his chest. Slowly you explore his upper body making sure that Christian is okay.
“When my mom left, she didn’t even bother bringing me. So he started taking it out on me. Apparently it was my fault that she left,” you continue looking into his brown eyes.
“Enough,” he whispers and you instantly remove your hands. He covers up again intertwining his fingers with yours.
“Why do you stay with me?” he asks leading you to the couch. You straddle him placing a kiss on his forehead.
“When you love someone, it’s worth fighting for no matter what the odds.”
XX
