He could see how broken she was. How every time she smiled it was fake, how every time she laughed it was sad, how every time someone touched her she winced, how at every loud noise she flinched, how every time she looked at him... she was lonely. She was friendless even in her clique, even in a sea of people she was the lone island. He could see everything she didn't want him to. But that was the problem. He could see everything she didn't want him to, he could see how broken she was when she was hiding it, but when she wanted him to see something...He was blind. She would open up to him, in the simplest and most subtle ways, telling him to save her, to protect her from who she was and who she wasn't. But he wouldn't see her.

Of course he saw her, but not the real her. The one that was scared, the one that needed to act brave and delude herself into thinking she was. The one that had insecurities, not because she wasn't told she was hot, she was, but insecurities because she wasn't beautiful. She thought he was blind to all of it, to everything she wanted him to see, so she stopped opening up. He could see when she didn't want him to, so he could search through all her layers and walls and he could find her if she didn't want him to. He was good at doing that, doing things she didn't want him to and she was certain that he could help her, that he could save her. Because God knows she couldn't save herself.

She let herself fall for him. Or she let herself do what she thought was falling for him. She'd never been in love before, she'd loved people but she'd never been in love. She wasn't sure there was much of a difference, but there seemed to be one whenever everyone referred to it. So she supposed there was. There was love and then there was being in love where all you say is 'I love you', and all you do is love each other. She wasn't sure how it was different but she supposed it wasn't what you felt while in the relationship, it was what you felt afterwards. Love was easy, it came and it went, it was fleeting. Being in love was harder in all the ways something can be hard. It was hard to do, to fall in love, it was hard to stay in love, it was hard to show your love, it was hard to give someone the power to destroy you and trust them not to. Or at least that's how she felt. Because she did it, she gave him the power to destroy her without even knowing it, she trusted him to an extent, trusted him to be there, to be her friend but for some reason she couldn't trust him with her secret. No matter what he said or did, no matter if he loved her back or not, she found she couldn't tell him. Because for whatever reason, he liked her, he saw her as something good and she didn't want to change that.

She wasn't sure when it started, the cutting or the self-hate, but she was pretty certain it had something to do with the cheerleaders and him making out with her arch enemy Donna Tobin. They called her names, played on her own insecurities and she hated it, but she couldn't say anything back. They froze her, slid their way through a tunnel under her walls, a tunnel he'd dug and she wasn't sure how to fix it. How to fix her. She'd never thought of herself like that but maybe that was it. Maybe she was a thing that needed to be fixed. Maybe she was really more broken than she seemed. But the question was, how could she fix something that had always been broken? Was there even a point where she became unfixable? She wasn't sure, but she didn't like the idea. She wanted to be fixed, to be helped and she was so sure that maybe he could help her, save her, fix her. But he hadn't...and she wasn't sure he'd even try anymore. It was a stupid idea, thinking that everyone else's hero could be hers too, and that's when the cutting started. It started off small, as a way to numb herself, numb her heart and the pain she felt in it. But then it grew. She started cutting deeper, trying to bleed all the stupidity out. Because that's what she was. She was stupid and it was in her blood and maybe she could cut it out, bleed the stupidity from her blood, get rid of it. Maybe then they'd stop making fun of her, hurting her. Maybe then she'd be worth saving. She didn't think it had gotten serious, not at all, until one day she couldn't stop, and she realized maybe she'd never been worth saving. Because he was everyone's hero and he'd promised he could be hers too if she needed him and she did need him but...maybe he didn't want to save her.

And that was when she went too far. She cut too deep, trying to get rid of all the stupidity, the voices and the pain and it wouldn't stop. The red filled up her skin, poured over the bathroom tiles and everything was fuzzy. She couldn't remember why or who or when or where, she could just remember what. What she was doing. Not who made her or why she was doing it, not where she was doing it or when she started, she just remembered that for every scar on her still healing arm, there was a name, an insult, a scar on her heart to match it. The last thing she thought of was him, him just staring at her and doing nothing, maybe because he didn't know what to do or he didn't want to do anything, but that's what she saw as she drifted into the darkness.

She woke up in a hospital three days later with something tightly gripping her hand and a dripping noise competing with her heart monitor. She didn't really understand much, just that she was cutting and she'd passed out, but it was nothing serious. Or at least to her it wasn't. She twitched, her fingers struggling to move under the death grip of the person holding her hand but it seemed enough to make them release her. All she heard was her name, her name whispered in disbelief, and then shouted in relief before she was swamped by warm and loving arms that cocooned her, embraced her in a tender moment of something undoubtedly known as love. Brotherly love, fatherly love, friendly love...or real love she wasn't sure, but she knew it was love. She didn't know why she could still feel it though. Nobody should love her, nobody at school did, they all hated her, she hated her, why should anyone feel opposite?

"Kim I was so worried." He whispered. It wasn't his usual whisper, the soft and smooth one, no, his voice croaked and cracked and sounded husky and raw like he'd been crying. She wasn't sure what there was to cry about but she assumed he was crying about her. "Why did you do that? You shouldn't have done that, Kimmy, it's dangerous and it's only gonna hurt you more." You hurt me more, she added mentally, remembering how he'd opened her up only to get her hurt but he wasn't to know. She frowned, looking at her arms. Her right hand was wrapped up in bandages and gauze while her left had her IV. She supposed you wouldn't notice if you didn't look close enough, but she noticed. She could see the small pale lines and the darker red lines that were still healing that went up the length of her arm. It was disgusting. Everything about it was disgusting and she didn't like it, she didn't like that it was another blemish, another flaw they could pick at. She guessed that he saw where she was looking as he softly gripped her left hand, pulling her arm up and brushing his finger along the cuts, gently over the fresher ones. She cringed. "What're you doing? Don't touch them, they're disgusting..." Her voice cracked as he looked at her, his finger still moving up and down her arm as tears welled in her eyes in sudden realization. "I-I...I'm disgusting..." He shook his head, leaning down and pressing light kisses to every scar as he muttered small compliments that would normally mean nothing, but to her, they meant everything.

He finally looked at her, his big brown eyes boring into her darker ones. Her eyes weren't always dark, they used to be light, a toffee brown before the darkness of her inner self overwhelmed the bright colour. He seemed to understand that from just one look. "You're not disgusting Kimmy, you're beautiful. Why don't you see that?" She shook her head. She wasn't beautiful. He'd never said so before, nobody had. She was always just hot, or moderately good looking, nobody ever thought any better of her because she wasn't any better. She was awful and disgusting and hideous and- "Y'know Kimmy...there's a quote...'We accept the love we think we deserve.' That's like what you're doing. You don't think anyone can love you so you don't love you." Her tears slowly started escaping. Nobody could love her but that wasn't why she didn't love herself. She didn't love herself because she couldn't, not when she was such a disaster. She was a wreck, she was horrible, she was anything but worthy of love. How could she love herself when she was so flawed? So stupid? He was here now, but that was only because of guilt. What guilt? She wasn't sure but she could guess that was the only reason he was here. "I-I don't lo-love me because...be-because I..." He hushed her, sitting by her as he brushed her hair out of her face, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "It's okay Kimmy. Everything's gonna be okay." "How! How co-could anything be okay? Everybody h-hates me! I hate me! No-nobody can love me...I'm pathetic..." He shook his head, tilting her chin up with his finger so she'd look at him. "Kimmy, that's not true. Not everybody hates you...I don't..." "Yes you do Jack...y-you're just pitying m-me..." She sobbed but he shook his head again. "That's not it Kimmy. I love you. I can't hate you if I love you..."

Her face must've been priceless but she honestly couldn't care. He loved her...Did she really just hear that? Did he actually just tell her he loved her? Like...for real? She shook her head at him. There was no way. No friggin' way he could love her. If she couldn't even love herself, how could somebody else? He must've known what she was thinking as he grasped her hand, interlacing their fingers together as he looked at her with such seriousness and adoration, such determination that she found herself unable to look away. "I know you don't love yourself...and I know it'll be hard to get better. But let me teach you." She tilted her head to the side, as she whispered out a simple 'how?'. How was he supposed to teach her? "Let me love you, until you learn to love yourself, Kimmy. Let me teach you what love is, show you how to love who you are like I love who you are." Her tears had reappeared, but neither bothered to wipe them, Kim too stuck in her little shell of disarray and Jack too stuck in his seriousness to try. "...How am I supposed to learn?" "I know you've never had an example. You've never known what it is to be loved or to truly love...So let me show you. I can help Kim, I promise I can...Let me show you what real love can do, what my love can do. Let me love you Kimmy, don't be afraid, I can help as long as you'll let me."

She wasn't sure how to answer. The guy she was in love with loved her back, he wanted to help her even after letting her get hurt. He wanted to be her hero. Just like he promised her, he wanted to save her. She wasn't sure what to say, how to trust but he seemed to understand that. He wanted to help her, to teach her, to love her. He wanted to warm her heart, bring her out of the numbness, save her from herself. He wanted to love her unconditionally as long as she'd let him.

"Yes..." "You'll let me teach you how to smile again? You'll let me love you so you can love yourself? I don't want to love you just until you love yourself Kimmy, I wanna love you after as well...But I can only do that if you'll let me." "I'll let you...I promise...I just wanna get better." She whispered as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest as she sniffled. "You will get better Kimmy...Everything will get better, I promise."

He promised her something before, and though he'd broken it, she gave him the power to destroy her anyway. She trusted him, she trusted him to help her, and she trusted him to love her, and for once...Kim wasn't doubting that trust.