Pairing: Reid/Tyler

Warning: Talk of child abuse. And this is quite possibility the softest I can go with intentional slash. No kissing or touching or speak of love. Just one action in which manages to convey all that love is. Slash or no slash. And! A rare occurrence -- Tyler POV.

"Ouch." I pause. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know that if I was really hurting Reid, he wouldn't admit it. By saying 'ouch', not ow or some form of grunt, he's faking it. But then I look at him again. His pale skin, generally white, regardless of how many hours he spends outside, looks stained. Splotches paint him purple and black. His older bruises look abandoned, small and yellow, barely visible, but I'm sure he's unable to forget exactly how he acquired the bruises. Reid can't ever forget. If I was hurting him he'd grunt or flinch away. He wouldn't just tell me, because that's not what Reid does. Reid doesn't tell me shit, even when he comes to me for help -- help he's so very reluctant to ask for. Kind of makes you reconsider the boundaries of your friendship, if your boyfriend can't even count on you.

I've stopped the bleeding. Sewed his face together with my second rate sewing ability. The cut wasn't as deep as it could have been. He said his father threw a unicorn figurine at him and caught him right above the eye. It could've been a whole lot worst. He could've lost his eye or split open his head when he fell. But the cut wasn't deep. We couldn't heal. I can't ever heal, it's not how my Power works. And he was too drained to heal. But you can't heal something that's already begun to heal naturally so…I suggested stitches, because Reid hates scars. He believes that scars are like pictures in a picture book. They tell stories all on their own and you can't ever shut them up. He doesn't want people to know too much about him -- not without his consent. He wants the power and when people know you…it makes it that much more easier for them to learn more -- your weaknesses and your fears.

He was real bloody when he showed up at my apartment. It was the holidays, but I'd already moved out. Who knew the youngest son would be the first to move out? We were just sixteen but my parents…

That doesn't matter. This isn't my story. He showed up at my door, a bloody hand covering his eye and another splayed across his ribs like he had to protect them or something. He did, but he was a little late on that. Because they were already broken. And I don't know how to reset bones. I'm not a doctor. His back wasn't just covered in bruises though. I don't know what his father did, but his back was all cut up. I've read enough to know how to deal with cuts. But I don't know to stop them from scarring. Maybe Reid doesn't scar as easily as he fears.

He hissed and flinched away from me. I didn't move and I waited until he reluctantly returned to his previous position. I'd hurt him. It was just antiseptic cream. "You're moving in with me." I'd been thinking about that a lot lately. But we were only sixteen. I knew his father was rough. My parents talked about him a lot because I was always hanging out with Reid. I wonder if his parents talk as much about mine as mine talk about his. They liked to reminiscence. Only recently did I realize how much Reid mirrors his own father. But he's different. Maybe it's just because I know him. Maybe it's just because he's still a kid. His father's abusive as hell though. If he doesn't get his way…

I know Reid's adamant about shit being done his way, but he gives a little all the time. He doesn't ever force me…not like his father forces his mother - or him -- to do anything. He isn't abusive. Even to Caleb, he shows restraint. I just hope that restraint lasts. Maybe his father showed restraint when he was our age too.

I didn't know his father was this abusive. I just thought he was rough. All fathers are rough, aren't they? At least those married to women…

"James won't --"

I couldn't hear him. I absolutely refused to. When we were younger, he couldn't give a shit about his father. It wasn't until he stopped calling James dad and started calling him James that I noticed the distinct change. It was like James was a different person. Not a father but some sort of nemesis. The antagonist of the story. The bad guy. "I'm not asking." Wasn't exactly the way I'd meant to propose my idea. Maybe Reid hadn't ever been abusive because he never needed to. I wasn't ever exactly controlling. If he wanted to do something, I'd never really needed to stop him. I'd never disagreed with his actions enough to stop him…

Reid remained silent as I slowly dabbed at the cuts littering his back with a cotton ball of antiseptic cream. "You really don't mind, baby boy?" I shouldn't hate that voice. How soft he'd become. I should've realized it sooner. How much softer he'd become in general. I should have known. I should have given him an out way before this. Way before he'd been scarred -- emotionally. But I didn't see.

"You spend half your holidays here anyway," I told him dismissively. But living is different. I know that. Because Reid still lived in dorms, while I had moved out. Because it was a necessary step in emancipating myself from my parents. I had to live on my own, without them. He didn't live with me. Living is different. I heard him lick his lips slowly as I prepared a bandage for a particularly deep cut.

"Living is different," he murmured. Huh. It's not like we didn't say some of the same things; we did -- sometimes at the same time. We had the same thoughts and did a lot of the same things. That's why we were friends, isn't it? Because we're similar. Not identical but enough alike as to suggest liking. We were different. Everybody was different, right? But just different enough to counteract each other. Like Peanut Butter and Jelly…

It's just…this wasn't a Reid thing for him to say. And that made me sad.

"Yes, I know," I murmured, gently applying the bandage. "I understand that this covenant is interlinked, Reid. All the surviving members must participate and interact. But I won't ever leave you alone with him again. You've given him too many chances. Chances to change. He's ignored them all and he doesn't deserve any more. And even if he were to, I don't think I'd give him anymore. You're mine, Reid Garwin. He's forfeit his claim to you."

"I'm not an object, Tyler," Reid mumbled. He shifted uncomfortably as I pressed another bandage to his back. I could hear the smile in his voice.

"All things in this world are objects, Reid," I said, slowly smoothing out the bandage. We're all just grey matter, at disposal if our counterparts see fit. All objects are subject to manipulation. "Do you want to live with me?" There you go. Ask him the question before demanding it. Let him think he's got a choice. Because he doesn't. I don't think I'll be able to let him go back home to James Garwin. I've let that man abuse him for years and the very thought makes me sick with myself.

"Yes."