He loosened a little and nodded, but he still looked uncomfortable. I didn't drag it out.
"There was a boy in the class next to mine—really sweet and friendly. At first, I thought it was a passing crush and didn't take it seriously. But as time went by and we reached the middle of the year, I realized I'd fallen hard. Back then, I was naive and I thought in simple terms. If I was in love with someone, why should I hide it? These were human things—things that could happen to anyone. He'd either accept it or reject it, and to me, rejection was better than staring at him from afar and imagining him coming to me while I kept hoping. Even if he rejected me, what would happen? I wouldn't die. I'd be sad for a few days, then I'd move on with my life."
When I laughed at the memory of my own stupidity, he had already finished bandaging my cuts. He glanced at my face for a brief second, said nothing, then sat beside me and leaned back against the wall. He stretched his legs out, took hold of my waist with both hands, and pulled me onto his lap.
When I tried to pull away, he hugged me tightly and spoke in a calm but exhausted tone.
"You don't realize it, but you're shaking from the cold, Sunshine. If you don't want to go to the hospital, let me warm you up."
The moment I heard the keyword, I nodded softly. He exhaled in relief, took off the thick cardigan he wore over his shirt, draped it around me, and wrapped his arms around me again.
Resting my cheek against his chest, I let his warmth calm me for a couple seconds, then sighed deeply and continued.
"When I finally gathered the courage to make my big confession, the first thing I did was ask one of our mutual friends for his number. I remember coming home that evening, placing my phone on the table, and just staring at it for minutes—hesitating, panicking."
After a bitter little laugh, I focused on the tiles again.
"Finally, with a sudden burst of courage, I grabbed the phone and sent the first message. But don't worry—I wasn't as stupid as you think. I didn't tell him my name right away. I thought I needed to make sure I'd caught his interest, or that there wasn't someone else he liked. But after a couple messages, he got irritated that I wasn't saying who I was and scolded me. Afraid things would escalate, I stopped replying immediately. Clearly, this wasn't going to end well."
I felt every muscle in his body tense. I slipped one hand out from under the cardigan and placed it over the hand resting on my arm, but I still couldn't bring myself to look at him.
"Luckily, he didn't message again that night either. So I decided that chapter was closed and went to school the next day. Except there was one small detail I never considered. The phonebook… It never even crossed my mind that I was registered in the operator's directory and that he could find my name there. While I went to classes and lived like nothing had happened, during a break one of my classmates asked for my name—and I looked up from my book toward the door. The second my eyes met the person staring at me from the doorway, I froze. The slow smile that formed on his face as he looked at me made my blood run cold. The moment I saw that smile, I knew this wouldn't end quietly. Because I—the most unwanted girl in the school—had confessed to the captain of the basketball team. The most popular boy in school. And I'd thought I'd get away with it."
When I glanced at Kerem from the corner of my eye, his expression was the kind of thing "scary" didn't even begin to cover. But I didn't want to stop halfway now that I'd come this far.
"So what happened next? The classic story you've seen in every American movie. Except mine wasn't a movie—it was real life—so it didn't have a fairytale happy ending where I got the love of my life, or a satisfying finale where I got revenge on everyone… Before a single class period had passed, I became the school's punchline. For days, even weeks, I endured nonstop humiliation, jokes, and cruelty. Aside from my close friends, everyone stared at me and laughed, making harsh comments they thought were hilarious. That was only bearable up to a point… The worst part for me was the way he'd look me in the eye and laugh while I listened to the girls around him mocking me every time we crossed paths. It went on like that until the end of the year. The following year, I thought it had all been forgotten. I tried to move on and leave those horror-movie days behind, but I was unlucky enough to end up in the same class as him. And we stayed in the same class until we graduated. So even if it wasn't always that intense, I became the victim of popularity again and again—often enough that it never let me forget."
After I finished, silence settled between us again. After a moment, once I'd decided I was better, I sniffled, took a deep breath, and continued in a steadier tone.
"Thank you for listening without commenting. I feel better now. I didn't want to make such a scene, but I guess today I'm emotionally… unstable. Everything piled up, and I couldn't hold it in."
"Duru…"
"Hmm?"
When he didn't answer, I lifted my head from his chest and leaned back to look at him. The second my eyes caught details I hadn't noticed earlier because I'd been consumed by my own breakdown, my breath lodged in my throat.
"Kerem! What happened? Who did this to you?"
When I touched the cut above his eyebrow, he inhaled sharply and caught my hand—then I saw the scraped knuckles on the back of his hand, crusted with blood. I took his hand and pulled it closer to my face.
"What did you do?"
He stayed silent, only looking at me. I sighed, grabbed the supplies beside us, and started cleaning his wounds—while grumbling furiously, of course.
"You fought with those idiots, didn't you? Ugh! You're never going to learn, Hotshot! Why did you do it? Was it worth getting hurt over those morons? They're just a few bored idiots who smelled fresh gossip. They would've talked about me for a few more days and then moved on when they got bored—"
I sniffled again and leaned in to blow on his cuts, but he pulled his hands out of mine and cupped my cheeks, turning my face toward him. When he wiped the two tears that slipped from my eyes with his thumbs, I smiled bitterly.
"None of these hurts the way it does when I see you crying because of me, Sunshine. I hate you crying because of me—even if it's for me. I told you. You're very precious to me… I can't change what that bastard did to you, but as long as I'm here, I won't let anyone hurt you. I know…"
Before he could say another word, I pressed my index finger to his lips. I leaned in closer, held his gaze, and whispered.
"I believe you."
Then I pulled my finger away and did something I'd never done before. I closed the last few millimeters between us, pressed my lips to his, and silently begged that he would feel—through that kiss—how special every word he'd said was to me, and how deeply I believed him.