Acceptance.

It was a strange word, foreign to him for the past two months. Something he never thought he'd be able to feel amongst the confusing whirlwind of emotions. It wasn't until the moment he'd made the small cuts that he made the realization. Realized that if he'd truly been who he said he was, he wouldn't have hurt him so badly to make him hurt himself. The sting of the warm shower water on the wounds snapped him back to reality, reminded him of who he really was.

It wasn't to say it didn't hurt. There would still be days where he'd suppress the urge to reach for the phone. There would be days he'd silently cry over the loss of the future they'd never have. He missed the feeling of being held, being kissed, being intimate.

Two months. The wound was still there, but slowly healing. He knew that within time that wound would be a faint scar, a reminder of the battle he had to fight and the monster he had to face alone. A monster that sooner or later would slip up and show his true colours to everyone around him.

He was finally able to breathe as he sat on the steps outside his house, sipping his mug of tea.

Finally, he was beginning to heal.