"That's... That's fine, Abigail." he muttered. "I know what you mean by it... Even though I don't believe you're ugly. You look just like you should look. A lot of girls would be jealous of you." What he said he meant, every word of it, even though it didn't sound too cheerful. "I wouldn't even think about judging you..."<br/><br/>He tilted his head aside, and let the black T-shirt slide down onto his shoulders. "People are assholes. When I was seventeen, I had a friend who was made fun of cause he was a ginger. Once I found him crying for it. The next day, I dyed my hair red and didn't stop doing it since then." he explained.<br/><br/>He put his elbows onto the seat, and crossed his legs, taking a more comfortable position. "Besides, nothing made my hand go black now. It's always like that. It doesn't change." he explained, pulling the wet T-shirt back on.