[ The way he watches her. The way he jerks, but doesn't pull away: not trying to pull away, but to stop something else. (A response. A wanting.) The way he speaks, armored, but that armor brittle, and weakness showing through.
She knows that. She knows that fear of relenting. She knows how armor wears thin. She knows what it is to hope so badly, so painfully, it destroys defense.
Just for everything to turn out well. Just for some ease, some peace.
She knows because there in him, she sees her own self, fragmented and wretched.
(She knows, too, that it takes time to reach this state. More than a handful of miserable weeks.
Has he been hurt, too? Has he been hurting, too?)
The smile she offers is a sorrowful thing, an attempt, but not half so warm as her hand still in a caress against him.
There, the familiar salt-sting of tears, but oh, she is trying; she can be comforting, and kind, and for once maybe someone needs it more than she does. ]
I don't.
[ She didn't mean to say that, so brokenly, sounding so regretful, so pleading. But the words are out, and he's listening, so she presses ahead, anyhow. ]
Not for myself. But I would like it to be true for you.
[ That, yes: there's truth in that. She would like him to survive her, and this miserable state of affairs. She would like him to find happiness. He deserves that, after all he's given, and all that she thinks he may have endured before she came into his life. ]
no subject
She knows that. She knows that fear of relenting. She knows how armor wears thin. She knows what it is to hope so badly, so painfully, it destroys defense.
Just for everything to turn out well. Just for some ease, some peace.
She knows because there in him, she sees her own self, fragmented and wretched.
(She knows, too, that it takes time to reach this state. More than a handful of miserable weeks.
Has he been hurt, too? Has he been hurting, too?)
The smile she offers is a sorrowful thing, an attempt, but not half so warm as her hand still in a caress against him.
There, the familiar salt-sting of tears, but oh, she is trying; she can be comforting, and kind, and for once maybe someone needs it more than she does. ]
I don't.
[ She didn't mean to say that, so brokenly, sounding so regretful, so pleading. But the words are out, and he's listening, so she presses ahead, anyhow. ]
Not for myself. But I would like it to be true for you.
[ That, yes: there's truth in that. She would like him to survive her, and this miserable state of affairs. She would like him to find happiness. He deserves that, after all he's given, and all that she thinks he may have endured before she came into his life. ]