“how did you get this scar?” @pennelophe
her fingers trace ever so gently against the scar that splits his face in two halves, and while it doesn’t hurt he's tempted to flinch. he resists the urge, knows that she's not trying to hurt him. its a long story, and while the scar has begun to fade over the years the memories never did. hesitance lingers, debating a convincing lie, but instead he offers up the truth. or at least a version of it. ❝ when i was a kid, like sixteen, my father — not-not the one you know, not stiles, my birth father — he, uh... well, i guess the story starts uh... a while before that. ❞ voice trails off before head shakes gently, forcing himself back to the topic at hand. ❝ but its— its a lot. the uh— the nice, or at least not so upsetting, version is that i... ran away. and when he got me back... uh it was— bad. violent. a, uh.. punishment, i guess. ❞ its kind of upsetting that that's a nice, very exclusionary version of the truth.















