I try eating the spaghetti silently. Damn, Ace can cook. I bite back moans of delight as I eat it.

Strangely, I don't feel nervous about him asking me about what he saw. Not like I'll tell him.

The silence is unnerving and I know Ace is holding back from shooting me questions. He is sitting opposite to me, in the huge dining table we are sitting in, his elbows on the table and hands covering his face.

He looks captivating when he is serious, I inwardly laugh. I shouldn't be thinking about him like that, he doesn't even think of me that way, for sure. When I finally finish my meal, he removes his hand from his face and walks to me.

He doesn't look at me once and I think it is because of the fresh scars he saw. Maybe he is disgusted by them, who wouldn't be? He picks my plate and puts it in the sink. Without a word or even a glance, he walks outside his kitchen and I take it as my cue to follow him.

Once we're on his room, he doesn't even turn back to look at me. I look at his back in silence, numerous thoughts going in my head.

However, one thing I am sure about is- I am not telling him the truth.

"I'll force the truth out of you if I have to, Venus," Ace speaks after a millennium. My eyes widen and my heart rate picks up. What he says shocks me not only because I was thinking exactly that but, because he sounds so sure.

He turns around, determination shining in his eyes. The way he looks at me, it's like he's looking through me. He walks towards me and I take some steps back. My back hits the wall.

This clichè position isn't as sexy as the romance novels describe. This makes me anxious, afraid and nervous. And more anxious.

His breath fans my face and his calculating eyes drop down to my neck. I try to push him away but he doesn't budge. His hands tuck my hair behind my ear and drop to my shoulder. He pulls the shirt off, exposing my scarred skin.

"A-ace, stop," I tell him through my quivering lips but he continues to inspect my skin, rage filling his eyes every passing second.

"Ace," I whimper. That stops him. He takes a step back and wipes the tear off my cheeks. He looks more troubled than I do, a frown is etched on his striking face and his eyes look at me in worry. His jaw is clenched painfully.

I don't think twice when I wrap my hands around his waist and bury my head on his chest. My sobs grow louder as I cry against his chest, my figure trembling terribly. I know crying isn't going to get me anywhere but they help me feel better.

To me, crying is therapy.

A moment later, his hands snake around my waist and he pulls me closer, one of his hands running up and down my back, soothingly.

"I'm here," he whispers softly in my ear and kisses my hair. I pull away from him, my tears falling less often. I look at his completely soaked shirt and look at him with a sorry expression.

Ace grabs me by my hand and sits me on his bed before disappearing into his bathroom. He returns shirtless, with a first aid box on his hand. Ace without a shirt is the best distraction anyone could get.

And I did not just say it.

"Who did it?" He asks, referring to the cuts, his tone completely gruff and hard.

"Ace, drop-" he cuts me off.

"Don't you tell me to 'drop it' again, Venus. Have you seen the cuts? Do you seriously not care about your own body? Why would you do this to yourself? I would have fucking helped you out if you would have just told me what was going on."

"You can't get me out of this, okay? I can't risk it," my voice breaks and his eyes soften a little.

His eyes fall to my wrists. His soft look changes as he looks at them in suspicion. I desperately hope he doesn't notice.

Ace lifts my hand and removes the bracelet. He sucks in a breath when he looks at the bruise. He does the same with my other hand and there too is a pretty big bruise.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

"You should get the cuts cleaned," he says, rage evident in his voice when he mentions 'cuts'. I shake my head 'no'. I don't want to look at the fresh scars, I haven't looked at them once.

I can't bear to look at them.

Ace looks at me sternly. I stand my ground and shake my head no for the second time. He heaves a frustrated sigh as he runs a hand through his hair.

"Kitten, they can get infected," he tries to reason. I don't care. If anything, at least physical pain will numb my emotional pain.

"Venus."

"Ace," I say in the same tone.

"Why not?" he asks exasperated.

"I don't want to look at them," I mumble stupidly. His eyebrows shoot up.

"Do you want me to do it for you?" He asks. My eyes meet his in surprise. What?

"I mean... if you trust me. I won't look down I promise. Please, just get them cleaned," he rambles, his ears turning a light shade of pink.

I sigh.

"They're ugly, you sure they won't gross you out?"

"What?"

"Uh.."

"No, kitten. They won't 'gross me out'."

"Fine. But after you wear a shirt or something," I tell him softly, my cheeks heating up. He chuckles a little, before going to his closet and returning with a black shirt. Does he have anything that is not a shade of grey?

A shiver runs down my spine when Ace says the next words.

"Let's get you out of that shirt then, kitten," he says.

Taking a deep breath, I start unbuttoning my shirt.