own these scars | {pthalo}

I'm in misery
where you can seem
as old as your omens

The signs of winter had each come in stride, and it was clear that Bryony’s least favorite season was about to set in for the long haul. The day was as cold and gray as the boy’s eyes, if not more so. The animals the often stalked the surrounding woods would soon disappear into hibernation to escape the cold, and the idea was almost appealing, but the risk of being trapped in a several month long nightmare gave Bryony a shudder as he made his way through the marketplace. His grandmother had asked him to pick up a number of things after school so that they might bake an assortment of pies and tarts for the patrons of the Greer’s hardware store.
He had invited his brother to come along out of courtesy, but Bryony was well aware that he was too cool to go with his embarrassing, “mental case” brother to the market after school where so many of their peers would be. Truthfully, Bryony didn’t want to subject himself to that much opportunity for social encounter anyway, but he wasn’t one to deny his elderly grandmother her wishes.

He wrapped his arms tightly around himself out of instinct to shield himself as he walked. Despite the frigid air, he was quite warm and bundled in his beige, wool pea coat and thick, cashmere scarf that had been passed down to him from his mother. With so many people running their evening errands earlier since the night came so much sooner now, Bryony was feeling quite exposed as he made his way through the more crowded than usual square.

Having already picked up most of the baking supplies, as quickly as possible mind you, Bryony made his way to his favorite fruit stand to pick up the last items on his list. He had been given free reign in selecting which fruits they would be using for the baked goods, but as he began to survey his options, he quickly realized he had no idea exactly how much he would need of anything. This was the first time he was selecting the fruit alone and he was suddenly aware that he had never actually before paid attention to quantity.

As he picked up an orange to eye it’s size, he could see the movement of someone approaching him out of the corner of his eye. His body immediately tensed as he prepared for a snide comment of some sort. He had been fortunate enough to evade any classmate encounters this evening thus far, but he supposed he shouldn’t really count on his luck for very long.

It wasn’t a classmate or anyone else that he was actually familiar with that approached however, but Bryony remained tense. It was the boy with the charming smile that he had seen so many times when he was helping around the store. He could feel blush rushing to burn his cheeks, but thankfully they were already pink from the cold as it were.

He didn’t know much else about the boy, though he had seen him occasionally around school as well. He thought he might be in his brother’s year, though he had never seen them interact. Of course, his brother didn’t usually associate with anyone outside of the merchant families anyway. Neither did Bryony really, but then again, he wasn’t really known for associating with anyone.

Bryony kept his expression hard and continued to pick through the fruit as the boy spoke. His heart seemed as if it might beat out of his chest as his anxiety flared up. Seeing this boy from a distance and silently noting his smile had been one thing, but to be approached and addressed by him was another entirely. He also didn’t really need anyone else on his list of antagonizers and his natural first assumption was for that to be what he wanted.

His tone was friendly though… too friendly, but Bryony couldn’t help but look up at him as he spoke his name. Ven… He wanted to say something in return, but his heart was beating so fast he felt it might leap out of his throat the moment he used his voice. He scowled harder, shielding his embarrassment as he fought to find words.

At last his vocal chords gave way and his soft voice answered Ven stoically, “My name isn’t Cap’n… it’s Bryony.” He continued to look nonchalant as he began selecting and surveying a variety of apples that might make for good pie fillings.

I'm in misery
where you can seem
as old as your omens

Once vocalizing his name, the ability to speak seemed to be once more ripped from Bryony’s grasp. He was used to being talked at, certainly, but not very often in such a friendly and curious manner. He wasn’t sure which was worse at the moment as he moved from apples to the small selection of berries that were still available at this turn of the season.

He let out a small gasp as suddenly the bags of flour and sugar and other assorted groceries were lifted out of his grasp. His immediate instinct suggested that this boy was about to throw them on the ground… that this whole nice guy routine was merely an act before the typical torrent of names and pushing began. He retained a hardened expression, but was unable to stop himself from flinching as Ven pulled away, carrying the bags with a smile.

”So where to? Your family’s shop?”

Bryony meant to protest, to reach for his bags and take them back, but Ven was much bigger than himself and that bright smile of his was too unnerving. His stomach fluttered with butterflies that seemed they might join his rapid heartbeat in leaping out of his throat should he speak, so he simply shook his head and continued quietly selecting berries with a stoic face.

Once he had finally finished picking through the fruit stand and paid for his merchandise, it seemed that Ven would be walking him home whether he wanted him to or not. He had softly reached to grab the bags from Ven’s arms, but he faltered under the charisma that seemed to radiate from this lumber boy like a beacon. So instead, Bryony quietly lead the way down the dirt path that would lead to his grandmother’s home. His family lived above their shop of course, but his grandmother’s house had always been a second home to him. He even had his own bedroom there from his childhood days when doctor’s suggested staying with her might curb his vivid nightmares. It didn’t. He enjoyed staying with her none the less though.

”You don’t talk much, do you?”

Bryony gave his chatty companion a sideways glance and shrugged coolly. It was becoming quickly apparent that Ven had no idea who Bryony was and why he kept to himself, and while it was refreshing in a way, it also kept Bryony on his toes. People always find out eventually, and then he’s either a freak or a wounded animal. Granted, the latter was rather true, but it didn’t mean he liked to be treated that way.

”So what’s all this for?”

Again, Bryony shrugged. Sure, he could have replied that his grandmother wanted to bake goods for the patrons of their shop, but that was a lot of words to give out so willy nilly to this stranger. Besides, there hadn’t been specifications as to what exactly they would be baking, so he figured a shrug sufficed just fine in this moment. All of these questions were making him uncomfortable anyway. Ven seemed to be goading him into speaking somehow, and usually people only did that when they wanted a rise out of him and to start trouble. He could see the tall boy staring at him from the corner of his eye, and the butterflies in his stomach flutter anew as Ven turned away. Bryony let out a sharp breath of frustration as they walked side-by-side, becoming obviously agitated and more visibly tense. Why was this boy walking him home anyway? This whole encounter was too random and bizarre, and no matter how handsome or charming his smile may be, Bryony just knew he could not possibly trust him.

”You live pretty far out, huh?”

Bryony swallowed back the lump in his throat. Once again he was at a crossroad where Ven asked a question that he should actually answer. He continued to look straight ahead as he responded, still not meeting Ven’s warm brown eyes.

“It’s my grandmother’s house out here; I got these for her. My family lives above our shop...” His voice was still soft, and though he tried to sound cold, it was uncertainty that riddled his tone. Although after speaking, he wasn't really sure why he announced where he actually lived. Now that he had found his voice once more though, he forced himself to push on and speak up for himself. “I don’t need your help you know, you can give me those bags and go home.” His light-eyed gaze continued to follow the path ahead as he suggested Ven let him be. He was afraid if he looked back at him, he’d again lose his ability to speak.

I'm in misery
where you can seem
as old as your omens

It didn’t matter that Bryony could carry the bags himself, for Ven didn’t lose his pace alongside his softspoken companion. If anything he got closer, even as Bryony tried to skirt away; Ven kept in stride closely beside him. Bryony instinctively flinched every time their bodies made accidental contact. Couldn’t this guy take a hint? Apparently not, and before long they had arrived at his grandmother’s doorstep.

He had expected Ven to hand off the groceries and let him be, but before he could make an awkward attempt at a goodbye, his grandmother was at the door greeting the both of them. Without missing a beat, Ivy Greer was making friendly with the boy who shouldn’t have been there at all. Bryony might have known this would happen. His grandmother, in stark contrast to himself, was one of the most bubbly and lively women one might meet in the entirety of District 7. She knew just about everyone, as she proved once more by listing off Ven’s parents. After all of her years working the store, most citizens had come through at some point, and certainly all of those who worked in the mills and forests had. She was also blessed with a knack of remembering names, as well as always making someone feel special. This was perhaps why Bryony found so much comfort in her company. No matter how anxious he may be, her warmth always lightened the load on his heart.

Presently, his anxieties over his company outweighed his grandmother’s kindness however, and he was mortified as she greeted him with such enthusiasm. It was quite clear to him what was going to happen next, and there was nothing he could do to stop her.

“Well it is lovely to finally meet you, Ven,” she said with a warm smile, “I am Bryony’s grandmother, Ivy. I doubt he’s told you.” She let out a small, light laugh and gave her grandson a loving pat on the cheek.

Bryony’s cheeks and ears burned red with blush. His fair complexion always gave him away. He averted his eyes from both his grandmother and Ven, trying to find words to explain who this boy was and how he had basically followed him here without invitation, but Ivy was already continuing, and such explanations were never necessary for her. Everyone was a friend.

“Do come in the both of you, it’s just about freezing out here and my bones can’t take that!” As she practically pulled the two boys into her home, she made no effort of whispering as she turned to Bryony, “Oh he’s a handsome one, Bry! Good catch!” She bellowed a laugh as her grandson’s jaw dropped.

“Grandma!” Bryony exclaimed, brushing past her quickly into the kitchen. If it weren’t for the bags he was carrying, he would have buried his face into his hands, possibly to never come out.


“So tell me, Ven, do you bake? Bry and I were going to bake some goods to bring a little warmth to the customers at the family shop. This cold weather has my joints aching though, and I’m sure we could use some help,” She gave Ven as small wink and a smile as she followed Bry into the kitchen.

Bryony looked as if he had just seen a ghost. He was midway through taking off his coat when his grandmother’s invitation echoed through his ears. He quickly placed it on the back of an old wooden kitchen chair and wrapped his arms around himself. He wore a cobalt sweater that was still not quite warm enough in the kitchen without a fire going. For the first time, Bry looked into Ven’s face while he spoke softly, “You really don’t have to do that… I’m sure you have better things to do.” Please, have better things to do…

I'm in misery
where you can seem
as old as your omens

"Nope, no plans for me. Looks like I am helping you guys."

Bryony’s stomach dropped. There was no skirting this guy, and he had no idea why Ven was so insistent on spending time with him. All he knew was that it made him uncomfortable and the butterflies in his stomach were going nowhere. If anything, they were getting more agitated as his anxiety seemed to reach new peaks. How was he supposed to casually bake with someone he didn’t even know? Before he knew it, Ven was reaching around him. His chest grazed against the back of Bry’s head, sending shivers up his spine. He tightened his hands into fists as his body naturally recoiled and tensed.

Then, all hell broke loose on his insides as his grandmother all but abandoned him. A nap? A NAP!? He would have scolded her or protested if his voice weren’t caught in his throat again. He felt as if he might hyperventilate. Wasn’t she worried about him alone in the kitchen with this boy who was practically a stranger? No. He saw the twinkle in her eye, and knew her well enough to know what she was up to. She was always teasing him about playing matchmaker for him ever since he told her he preferred the company of boys a few years prior. Well she finally had a golden opportunity and she was taking it. Though his grandmother had always been cognizant and considerate of his anxieties, she was often the one to try and help push him beyond his comfort zones in what little ways she could.

Before he could say anything to stop her however, she was gone and Ven was fiddling with the cherries. Bryony remained silent as he pulled out a number of other bowls and spoons onto the counter to prepare the pastry ingredients.

"Nice lady."

As had come to be his typical response to Ven, Bryony nodded silently. He wasn’t really sure what to say to this boy, and he was trying to find the words to kick him out now that his grandmother was gone. He was biting his lower lip as he glowered at the assorted fruits on the table, searching for his words when Ven broached the silence once more. His question was valid, Bryony supposed, although it wasn’t exactly accurate. He pursed his pouty lips together for a moment, still looking away from Ven as he formulated his answer. He wasn’t sure if he was still blushing from the moments prior or if he was blushing anew, but he was aware of the burning sensation in his cheeks and ears.

“I’m not angry with you,” he began softly, still looking away. “I just don’t understand why you are here. I’ve never even talked to you before in the shop, why are you being so nice to me?” He picked up an apple as if surveying it, but really he was just trying to occupy his shaking hands. “Is this some kind of elaborate trick to mess with me? I don’t get it…” He couldn’t help it as he flinched after his voice trailed off. He was too used to getting hit by his peers at school whenever he spoke up for himself that his body instinctively shielded itself in the moment.

I'm in misery
where you can seem
as old as your omens

Ven’s answer was enough to quell at least some of Bryony’s concerns. He still wasn’t sure about him however, and bit his lower lip as he quietly mulled it over for a moment. It was still bizarre that anyone out of the blue just wanted to get to know him or spend time with him. That never happened. He was always the weird kid who used to wake up screaming during naptime in kindergarten… the kid with the sudden panic attacks in the middle of the school day… the kid that people like Ven mocked and teased and pushed around for fun. He’d probably turn out the same when he realized whom Bryony was.

“I see plenty of people all of the time without talking to them,” Bryony said softly as he watched Ven unnecessarily over wash the cherries. He wasn’t being snide or rude; he was simply stating a fact. Aside from his family and the small handful of people he called friends, Bryony kept to himself as much as possible. To speak to others was to expose himself to the potential of further taunts and teasing that already haunted him enough.

Bryony’s glanced sideways at his baking partner as he began to speak. Finally Ven was offering him an out, offering his leave, when a simple mishap of flour shifted the mood. The cloud of powder surrounded the two of them, lightly coating everything it touched. While Bryony was merely kissed by a thin layer of white, Ven’s face and shirt took the brunt of the mess. The butterflies flit wildly inside Bryony’s stomach, yet this time they were not so threatening or frightening. This time they were light and tickled the barrier of his chest until he couldn’t control the small laugh that escaped his lips. His lips curled in a smile that he could not hide fast enough, and before he could stop himself, he was speaking.

“I thought you said you love to cook,” his voice was still quiet, but it was much lighter as another chuckle kissed his lips. He bit his lower lip, trying to regain his stoic expression, but Ven just looked so goofy.

Bryony averted his eyes to the flour bowl and pulled it towards himself. His smile was fading, but there were still traces of a curl in the corner of his lips. “Why don’t I handle this part. You can start cutting up the apples?” It was Bryony’s indirect way of letting Ven know that he could stay, at least for a while. He knew there would come a time when his demons would rear their ugly heads, and that Ven would probably just be like the other boys at school. For now, though why couldn’t he simply bake with someone who was being nice to him?

I'm in misery
where you can seem
as old as your omens

Bryony could feel his breath catch in his throat and hot blood rush to his cheeks as he caught Ven’s eye. The boy’s mischievous grin was enough to shake up Bry’s anxiety all over again. He didn’t refer to him as “the guy with the charming smile” in the store for no reason. Feeling exposed and vulnerable, he quickly turned back to the flour and began mixing the various dry ingredients before adding the butter, milk and eggs. He delicately measured each component just as his grandmother had taught him. Baking had become rather second nature to him with all the time he spent with her and recipe cards were rarely needed for reference.

It was easy to lose himself and regain his sense of calm with the way his body fell into the routine of the task. The clatter of metal against the wooden floor brought him back into the moment however. He had to force himself not to grin; Ven clearly couldn’t handle cutting the fruit either. Bryony attempted a look of exasperation as he turned to his baking partner, but it fell to one of concern as he noticed Ven pressing his hand into a paper towel.

”Next step?”

“Did you cut yourself?” Bryony asked softly as he stepped forward to close the gap between them. With one hand he removed the knife from Ven’s grasp to place it on the counter, with the other gently pulling the boy’s wounded hand toward him. The first thing he noticed were how rough Ven’s hands were by comparison to his own. He supposed that’s what a life working in the woods did to you.

Without hesitation, Bryony removed the paper towel to assess the cut. It wasn’t too deep; thankfully, no stitched would be needed. “Wash your hands,” he said matter-of-factly as he walked out of the kitchen. He made his way to the small cupboard in the hallway where his grandmother kept her basic first aid supplies and grabbed a simple antibiotic ointment and a small bit of cloth bandage to cover the wound.

Upon returning to the clumsy chef, Bryony softly bandaged up Ven’s cut without a word. He blushed as the warmth from Ven’s hands spread into his own and quickly took a step away from him once he was finished. “I think you need to find a new passion. I don’t think cooking is your thing,” Bry said as he attempted to quell the hint of a smile in the corner of his lips. “Perhaps you should just stick to taste testing?”

He gave Ven an unsure sort of half smile as he handed him the spoon with which he had just mixed the pastry batter before turning back to the counter to finish up the prep work. His heart still raced with nerves and uncertainty when he looked at Ven, but he couldn't help the fact that his goofy charm was making it easy to feel more comfortable around him. This in itself was another thing to add to Bryony's list of anxieties.

I'm in misery
where you can seem
as old as your omens

“I think I would be afraid to try whatever yours would be,” Bryony replied, trying not to smile. If the boy couldn’t cut an apple without messing up, the idea of him preparing an entire dish of any sort seemed laughable.

The close proximity at which Ven stood kept Bryony tense as he attempted to resume his task. Honestly, he would have gotten it done a lot faster with his grandmother as his partner, but at the same time, he wasn’t entirely sure he was as upset with the situation as he thought he would be. His body relaxed back into the groove of measuring, pouring and mixing as it became automated once more. Every now and then it would take a moment to recall a particular detail of the recipe and Bryony would furrow his brow and bite his lower lip as he filed through his memories. Lost in a process that was so comfortable to him, he almost forgot the Ven was there until he realized he was being stared at. Ven was biting his bottom lip as well, but with a silly grin spreading across his face.

Bryony responded with a look of perplexity. What was so funny? Was he being weird? His stomach sunk as he attempted to figure out what he was doing wrong, but Ven saved him the trouble.

It’s nothing. How much longer til I get to do my duties again?

Trying to shrug his nerves off coolly, Bryony rolled his eyes and handed Ven a spoon full of one of the fruit and sugar mixtures he had created for a pie filling. Without waiting for a response, he set the bowl aside to begin delicately cutting strips of dough for the lattice work atop the pies. He couldn’t resist looking back up at Ven though as he tried his creation and had to turn away as a full laugh escaped his lips when he saw that half of the concoction seemed to have missed Ven’s mouth and stained the edges of his lips and cheek. He looked like a sloppy child. Clearly subtlety and poise were not in his repertoire. Still smirking, though trying hard to fight it, Bryony mimed whipping his own mouth. “You um, have something just there you know…”