She shrugged my hand off, her gaze fixed on the textbooks and notes sprawled out on top of the table.
"This is the reason?" I asked. "Because you got a bruise?"
"Yes and no," still not looking at me.
"Then why? Look, I'm not here to judge, okay? I'm here to listen."
"I'm tired of you guys pitying me! Can't you see that?!" Tears sprung in her eyes. "I'm tired of you guys trying to fix me! I'm not broken!"
Then I realized something:
I dropped the bomb.
"Who's Kurt?"
Her shaking figure stilled.
"How did you know about him?"
"Cheska made a slip a while ago at lunch," I mumbled.
I figured lying to her would only make things worse. As if things could get worse tgan it is now.
"So that's why you're here? You wanted to know who Kurt is. You didn't came here to help me study," she mumbled nonchalantly.
"Ky, of course I came here to help you."
"Fuck you," she said, wiping her tears away.
"Ky," I pleaded. "I'm not perfect to judge you. I want to understand."
"You won't," she said, her voice shaking.
"Then help me. Please, Kyle," I pleaded once more, my voice not above a whisper.
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