《Oneshot Per Day》🥐The Hands of my Beloved🥐

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You know what

Knife x Paper for the soul :]

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Time isn't of any importance. Place isn't a matter of importance either. All you need to know is that somewhere at some point there are two people with their hands intertwined. As they feel each other with soft back-and-forth motions of a thumb. Or perhaps small circles.

When a soft thumb grazes over scar after scar, a gruff hand squeezes back. And when a boney hand traces soft, fat, round fingers, a very happy man giggles. In hopes to hear that blissful sound again, Knife re-intertwines their hands and brings them upwards so he may plant an everlasting kiss on his partner's hand.

The kiss drives Paper mad. He blushes furiously and has to stifle his goofy smile with his shoulder. Knife can't help but smile too. Dropping their hands to lean forward and kiss Paper's burning red cheek. The red now disturbed by a dark kiss mark.

Knife really should invest in a better lipstick. Or perhaps he'd picked the best one, one that would mark his partner, so when he'd be showered in Knife's kisses, it would show. At some point, people stopped being suspicious of the marks. They became one with Paper. Even if against his pale skin and the usual colorful marks he wore, it soon became the norm.

Just like being covered head to toe in silly sayings and drawings. Knife loved the silly drawings. Hearts and kisses and faces covered Paper's arms. Sometimes even lists for groceries or chores, phone numbers circled once, twice, thrice! Maybe some flowers and stickers too! "Way to go" or "You rock!" stickers that layer flat, or star stickers that puffed up to create a 3d effect.

Paper loved to run his fingers over the texture of the ballooned-up stickers. He also likes to run his fingers on Knife's ballooned-up scars. The ones that never did lay flat, or the ones that never healed smooth. Paper could start from Knife's face and run his hands all the way down to his ankles and recall just about every story his boyfriend had told him. The tough fights he'd been in, the silly childhood accidents, surgery scars from this and that.

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Knife's scars were beautiful, Paper loved them. They made Knife who he is and told who he was.

Paper's doodles were quirky, Knife adored every bit of it. It showed Paper's compassion and patience and it was his form of self-expression.

So their hands adorned with each of their own bits and pieces and stories lay clasped around one another they create a new story. Not one of silliness or toughness, but of love.

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453 A short chapter indeed but I need to be getting stuff out. I'm sorry my disappearance I know its typical of me but it's no excuse. I get frustrated when other people don't provide content for this show a little ol hypocritical me let's this book collect dust. Anyways, love you guys /p

(2~13~23~)

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