"Did you hurt her?" I ask him after a while, creating a story in my mind. Something like: he hurt the girl, she left here because of how hurt she was so he turned cold because of her loss.
"I did something worse than just hurt her. Something much, much worse." he answers with his voice low and broken. His embrace is so tight that my fingertips barely touch the floor and my ribs are sore, we are as close together as physically possible. And I don't want him to let go.
I don't want to press the girl thing, because it's obviously way too delicate to keep rubbing salt in the wound. And I don't want to do anything to make him angry, let go of me and go back to being the dark Judas I know and dislike, so I just stand here, holding him, letting him hold me and turning my head to the side so he
