I hated this.
I hated—
"I get it," his soft, gentle voice enveloped me along with his embrace. "I get it, sweetheart, you don't have to," he caressed my hair and pressed my head on his shoulder. "It's okay, you can even throw it out if you want, or let it hidden forever. I'm sorry for talking about it, yeah?"
As I felt his gentle kiss on my temple, my mind and heart gradually became calmer, and I nodded against his chest.
"Thank you," he pulled me back and caressed my trembling cheek tenderly. "Do you not want to bring it out?"
I nodded wordlessly, and he smiled at that. "Even though I said you don't have to feel guilty over that?"
"I know that...but..."
Actually, rather than guilt, I felt disgusted. Hatred. It was a tool that hurt someone I liked, so wouldn't it be a given that I'd hate it?
"Alright, then we won't talk about it," he leaned down and kissed me lightly. "But I hope you can just forget about it, sweetheart. I hope you can lighten your heart, yeah?"
