Scars Are Nothing To Be Ashamed Off...Unless They Make You Ugly

Phantom Jester wasn't sure how it happened, but somehow, he was bleeding. Bad. He had gone out to scavenge for supplies inside of a nearby clinic, but one of the doctors had still been alive, and things had gotten bad. The zombie had been holding a scalpel, and damn those things are sharp when they slice through your stomach.

He was barely conscious when he finally made it back to camp.

"Jake...!" He called, but his voice sounded so very quiet. "Homie, you back yet...?"

He stumbled down onto the ground, leaning against the car. A glance at his hands revealed that his hands were soaked in blood. He wasn't doing so well...

"B-bro...?"

"What the hell is it?" called Jake, holding his rifle at the ready. "Don't tell me you're--"

He completely forget what he had meant to say when he saw Jess. He threw his hat on the ground, swearing loudly.

"Dammit, kid, get the hell over here--can you even move?! Come on!" He slipped Jess's arm over his shoulder and helped him back to their camp.

"Camp" happened to be an abandoned mini mart. They had been staying there for a few days; most of the food was already gone by now. They would have to move on soon.

"Can you even talk?!" he barked harshly, tearing the store apart in search of anything, even Neosporin. He didn't mean to sound so cruel, but he had never been calm under pressure.

Jess wiped the blood seeping from his mouth, trying to stand up, without much success.

"I...I'm sorry." Jess said quietly, completely aware that Jake probably couldn't hear him at all. "I all up and motherfuckin' messed up..."

He shifted, trying to sit up again. "Bro, come here..."

"Lay the fuck down!" he barked irritably. He wouldn't stand for that stupid punk killing himself; it wasn't an option. "If you move, I'll kill you!"

When he finally found a first aid kit, he sprinted back to Jess's side like a madman.

"Keep your goddamn knees bent!" he snapped, moving Jess into a better position. "I don't want to clean up your guts, got it?! Stupid punk..."

Grabbing a clean towel, he pressed it on the wound, applying pressure.

"What the hell were you thinking?! Did it bite you, is that how you got this?"

"Nah, man..." he mumbled, trying to obey Jake's orders. "I...it cut me with a motherfuckin' scalpel...I dunno the fuck it was doing with it, but..."

He tried to sit up still.

"B-bro, come here, you can't...you gotta promise me you won't take off my clothes," he said weakly, trying to look him in the eye. "You...you can't take 'em off, man...you gotta bury me in my clothes..."

Jake gently pushed him back down.

"No, shut up--you're not thinking straight. Of course you're gonna live, and of course I'm bandaging you up."

"No!" He said, suddenly struggling. He reached and grabbed Jake by the collar. "Don't you dare take off my clothes."

Jess looked him straight in the eyes, despite being delirious. "Don't look at my body, don't bandage me up, just let me die...I'd rather die..."

"Jess, if you don't lay down I will restrain you!" he exclaimed, pushing him back down to the ground. "Now let me patch you up, you stupid son of a bitch!"

"N-no!" He replied, swallowing roughly. "Please, let me die, don't take off my shirt, don't look at me..."

"If you move again, I will knock your goddamn lights out!" he said, not bluffing in the slightest. It was harder to save a struggling man than an unconscious one.

"N-no, Jake, bro, p-please..." He pleaded one last time before he ended up losing consciousness. He slumped back, finally quiet.

-x-

Jake glanced at Jess as he ripped into a Hostess Twinkie. Those things had been about to go off the market; thank God they hadn't yet. They could last forever.

As for the boy, however, his expiration date was less clear. There had been scars all over his stomach, ones that had healed over a long time ago. Perhaps he dressed like that for reasons other than being a punk.

When Jess woke up, at first he thought he was getting over another bad trip. However, as things became more clear, he remembered that he hadn't actually done drugs in a really long time, and that the apocalypse was for real. When he finally remembered what he was doing, laying there, his hands shot to his face. He felt for make-up, but instead, he felt the scars he had been trying to cover up for a long time. If there was any makeup left, it was mostly gone at this point, no doubt due to his sweating as he slept.

"...Jake?" He asked coarsely, unwilling to move too much. A part of him hoped that Jake wasn't around; that he had left once he saw the scars covering his body. He wouldn't be surprised at all; it was usually how most people reacted.

"Yeah?" asked Jake, turning around. "Don't move too much, kid--you'll tear the sutures."

This made things harder on Jess; what was he supposed to do now? No one had ever stuck around. He knew Jake had to have seen his scars. Or, maybe he was just pretending the incident had never happened? Maybe he was pretending he hadn't seen anything, because it had disgusted him so much?

Deciding to pretend it hadn't happened either, Jess said, "...have you, uh, seen my bag? With my facepaint?"

He rolled his eyes.

"I've seen your scars, kid--I don't care. Just rest before I hit you, okay? Be less of a punk for once.

"You thirsty?" He procured a bottle of water.

Jess just stared at the ceiling. No, that couldn't be right at all. No one had ever acted like this before. Was it some sort of trap? He mulled it over, unsure what to think. His mind wasn't in the best shape anymore, and this complication was giving him a headache.

He glanced at Jake cautiously, unsure of what to expect. Maybe this was just some sort of elaborate, mean prank. He was used to those.

Jake scooted close to him, feeling his forehead. He smiled slightly, relieved.

"No fever," he said, pouring water onto a clean cloth. He pressed it the Phantom Jester's lips. "Don't sit up."

Jess moved the cloth from his lips, not wanting it to smudge away more of his makeup.

"Bro...let me put my, uh, facepaint back on." He said, completely ignoring Jake and trying to sit up. God his stomach hurt. He hadn't hurt this bad in a long time.

Jake pushed him back down, annoyed.

"Now isn't the time for makeup! What, are you afraid I'll see your face? You look fine, kid. Nothing to be ashamed of--what was it, a car accident? You think I ain't seen worse?"

"...but it's, uh...it's uh..." he struggled to find the proper words. Things like 'ugly' and 'disgusting' weren't strong enough. "...it was my motherfuckin' dad."

He glanced away, debating on trying to sit up again. "...after that, it was, uh, me. Then...my dad again. Never thought it'd fuckin' happen again, but...it all up and did. Couldn't take it anymore, y'know."

He frowned deeply. Why was he even explaining this?

"Doesn't change nothin'. I'm, uh...I'm me. Motherfuckin' freak of nature, I am."

"You will be if you don't stay the fuck down," he said flatly. "I don't care, kid--as long as you stop being a goddamn hooligan, you'll be in my good books. I've seen much, much worse."

He just looked at Jake.

"Can you, uh, bend over?" He asked suddenly. "Come closer, homie."

Sighing, Jake leaned closer.

"Yes? What is it?"

Jess kissed him on the nose, as it was the easiest thing to reach.

"...uh. Thanks." He said, smiling at him rather goofily.