“I’m fine,” they mumbled, tugging their sleeves back down.

You’d caught a glimpse. A careless wave at a friend across the street, and their sweater had slid down their arm, revealing what you hoped you didn’t see right. What you hoped was the light. Or an accident. Or anything else. Because it looked like scars, and Kris wouldn’t do that. Never.

Never.

“Seriously. Drop it.”

They were self-consciously walking faster, further ahead, trying to put distance between the two of you despite having invited you to walk to the lakeside together. The cheery mood from before had darkened, a shadow cast over their eyes as you ran to catch up.

Kris wouldn’t. Not without telling you something was wrong. You were best friends. And best friends never kept secrets.

You managed to catch up by the picnic tables in the little section of woods near the lake, where your hand snagged their sweater again—how much was it hiding? How many? How deep?—and tugged them back. As you opened your mouth to speak, they held up a hand and sighed.

“I…I’ll explain. Just don’t be upset. Please.”