[When she stops, he's the one left still crying, endless, softly hiccuping breaths between his wet snuffling, all unvoiced, just like his laughter. It lacks the violence of her grief. He is sorry, he is so sorry and unhappy, and he doesn't deserve to hold this girl in his arms because he did this to her, he'll keep doing this to her until she stops caring so much, and he needs it. He needs her to think he's something special in this world. He needs her to love him.
He needs her.
He doesn't do anything to move her, doesn't let her go, just holds her to him while she rides out her storm to the end and keeps his own sorrow to himself, quiet, without hope of repair.]
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He needs her.
He doesn't do anything to move her, doesn't let her go, just holds her to him while she rides out her storm to the end and keeps his own sorrow to himself, quiet, without hope of repair.]