We got out and joined each other at the front of the car. He leaned against the hood, hands inside the pockets of his hoodie as he looked out at the twinkling lights below. I leaned beside him, the metal warm through Jason’s oversized pants. Wickeston looked a lot prettier from up here — all glittering lights spread out in the darkness. The breeze picked up and made me shiver a bit, and I glanced over as Manson unzipped his jacket.

“Here, you must be cold,” he said, ushering me closer. He pulled me to his chest, and I leaned against the hood between his legs as he pulled the jacket around both of us. His chin rested on my shoulder, his hands finding mine beneath the jacket.

He pressed lightly on the pad of my middle finger, and I said, “The heart healed. No scar.”

“You sound disappointed,” he said.

“I guess I hoped it would scar,” I admitted. “I liked looking at it. It made me feel like…I don’t know.” I shrugged sheepishly. “It made me feel like maybe I’d been forgiven. At least before I went and fucked things up again.”

It wasn’t easy to admit; I hated to say I was wrong. People would take advantage of that. If you gave them even an inch, one single moment of weakness, they’d find a way to wield it over you. Pride kept me safe. It was a barrier I’d thought no one could breach.

Oh, how incorrect I’d been.

“I know that probably sounds really hypocritical of me,” I said, as his silence drew out. I needed him to say something, anything. It felt like such a silly thing to admit that a little cut on my finger made me feel so much. If I’d tried to tell that to anyone else in my life, they would have laughed or been disgusted, horrified, maybe even concerned.

“I think we’re all hypocrites, in one way or another,” he said, and his arms tightened around me. “As we grow up and figure out who we are, sometimes our thoughts change before our behavior does. It’s not pretty, and it can be fucked up, but we’re not perfect. We’ve all done it.”

“Yeah?” My voice sounded far more timid than I wanted. “You’ve done it too?”

“I…well, fuck…” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Once I met this girl, and I thought she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. But I wasn’t good enough for her, you know…I was a mess and didn’t know how to talk to anyone. I was always in my own head just trying to get through another day.”

I swallowed hard, thankful for the jacket’s warmth. I knew this story and it wasn’t easy to hear, but I needed to.