[He listens without saying anything, without looking at her, so that the only indication he's paying attention--the only indication he's hanging on every word like her voice is a lifeline over a pit--is the way his breathing changes. The way he swallows when she mentions her friend trying to stop her. The way he clings to her hand as if to reassure himself that she's there. Or that he is.
The breath he takes shudders in the quiet pause after she says what hurts him most: Everyone who ever knew her forgot her, completely. What felt shaky in him before now feels completely broken loose, adrift, cold and alone, and he doesn't return her gaze when she looks up at him.
He just leans into her, weightless and warm, and rests his face in her hair. He holds her arm to him still; holds her hand tighter. His voice hovers on the edge of breaking, gummed up and strained in the back of his throat.]
no subject
The breath he takes shudders in the quiet pause after she says what hurts him most: Everyone who ever knew her forgot her, completely. What felt shaky in him before now feels completely broken loose, adrift, cold and alone, and he doesn't return her gaze when she looks up at him.
He just leans into her, weightless and warm, and rests his face in her hair. He holds her arm to him still; holds her hand tighter. His voice hovers on the edge of breaking, gummed up and strained in the back of his throat.]
I don't want to go.
[His breath barely stirs her hair.]
I don't want to go away.