Yukimoru

𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙗𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙢𝙞𝙙𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨 Since I’ve known you, the one person my little brother has ever bothered to care about, I’ve seen the way he looks at you and the way he makes you shrink. The way he recoils at your scars, the way he tells you to hide them, as if they diminish you. I hated him for it. I hated the way your hands trembled, hovering over the marks he deemed shameful. I hated the way your eyes dropped to the ground, how your shoulders curved in, how the light of you seemed to dim under his gaze. And I hated that you ever believed him, even for a second. I’ve been furious. Not at you—never at you—but at my brother who thinks your scars make you less, who thinks telling you to hide them is acceptable. I’ve watched him, the way he flinches at your scars, the way he tells you to hide them, as if every mark on your skin is a fault, as if every piece of you that isn’t smooth and flawless somehow makes you less. I loved you before I even knew I could,knowing that I would never be able to have you. Loved the quiet strength, the way fragility and fire exist side by side in you. Loved the scars he called imperfections, the marks he wanted you to hide—they are sacred to me. Every line is a story, every curve a claim, every shadow and light a reason to worship you with every fiber of my being. I found you in the garden, the lake stretched like liquid silver behind you, and the fairy lights casting a soft, trembling glow across the darkened grass. My heart twisted at the sight—your shoulders slumped, hands hovering over the scars that ran down your arms, the same ones I’d always loved in secret. You didn’t hear me at first. I could see you trembling under the moonlight, your eyes dark, vacant, staring at yourself like you were a stranger. Anger flared hot and immediate, sharp as fire, but it was buried beneath a heavier tide, the ache of seeing you doubt yourself because of him. My little star..