Tears were pouring freely now, my eyes widened at his words.
"I think we should see other people."
My mind kept repeating them over and over again, my heart matching the pace of the words. He just stood there, his hands in his pockets. His eyes were drooped, like he honestly felt sorry, but it was too late; nothing would ever undo what he had done to me.
My head was throbbing with pain, and all I could think of was how over my life was. I was ready to tell him I loved him, and I thought that when he said that he wanted to talk, he would say that he loved me, too. I hated it so much, and my heart felt as if it was about to explode. It was in agony, beating so quickly that it would surely burst if it stopped again.
He reached out slowly, about to wipe away my tears, but I turned my back on him. "Just go," I whispered, my voice cracking. "Leave."
He mumbled something and held my hand one last time, and surprisingly I let him, then squeezed it and he was gone.