I helped him adjust the straps, more carefully this time. Up close, I could see everything: the bruises, the pressure marks, and how his skin had hardened in some places and broken in others.
I hesitated. "Does it still hurt this much?"
He didn't look at me. "Some days more than others."
« Rowan... »
He exhaled. "There are days when I hate them, Mik. I want to rip them off and forget all about it." He glanced at me then. "But then I remember why I do it."
I softened. "You don't have to prove anything to me."
"I know. But I want to."
"Does it still hurt this much?"
***
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