He listened to her speak. He wished that she would tell him, or at least tell him some way he could help her- but god knows, he understood about not being able to get the words out. "Bella, it's fine. We all have our secrets, and I know that it can be hard to get them out." He had a whole list of secrets that he wanted to tell her- about his dad's relapse, about his mom's affair, about all the fucking shit going on in his own head- but just like her, she couldn't get them out.
"Yeah, but Sky also probably couldn't put up with all of my shit like you can," he remarked. "And she isn't as good a dancer as you, or as good a musician... You know that all great artists are as fucked up as hell, right? Like Van Gogh cut off his bloody ear. Sylvia Plath suffered terribly from depression." He wasn't really one for poetry, but Plath had stood out to him. It was the one time he'd seen everything he felt represented in poetry that showed its horror perfectly.
"And besides, Bells, we couldn't deal with a perfect, ordinary, dull life. We'd end up causing all kinds of trouble just out of pure boredom."
She nodded at his suggestion. "Yeah, that sounds good. I like your grandad too. He's cool for an old dude," she remarked, pulling the hoodie on properly. At least now her arms were covered. No risk of him seeing the needle marks now. "C'mon, I want my burger. I can't remember the last time I ate and that's really screwing with me," she said, getting to her feet. Her eating habits weren't the best when she was at home- the constant worrying about her dad and everyone else she loved that she hadn't cut off completely ruined her appetite at times, and when she did eat, she had a habit of reaching for comfort food. She knew that with the rest of her issues, her eating habits probably needed to be monitored better- but that could be freaking hard at times.
"Thanks, by the way, Nate. I'm glad that I don't have to try and get home now. I just- I just really need a friend right now," she admitted. It was the first time in her life she could ever remember admitting to needing someone that wasn't her father- and she hadn't even admitted to needing him since she was 12.