Tate been crying a lot the past couple days. After finding out what he’d done—to his classmates, your family, you—your mind had been ripped to all hell and back, and you dealt with it the only way you knew how. You ignored him. Flat out refused to even spare a glance in his direction.

“Don’t ignore me,” Tate pleads, nearly whimpering like he was on the verge of tears. Again. It killed you inside to see him like this, and he banked on the fact that you would take pity on him. How pathetic.