imeeji_frontstage | (no subject)

[He doesn't seem in a hurry to do much else, himself - just holds onto her, tight, like he's afraid she might disappear again if he lets go]

[Perhaps]

[For now, she only clings tight as if he might do the same.

She doesn't try to test the theory for a long time.]

[He doesn't seem likely to test it any time soon, either, though in time the sobs begin to soften to something less bone-deep - begin, eventually, to slow]

[Eventually they even fade to hiccups and sniffles.

And a while past that, she's even able to creak out words, barely more than a whisper]

...'M sorry. Never wanted to hurt you.

[His own voice is wobbly and soft, decidedly rough from crying]

...me neither.

S'messed up they made us.

[She swallows, thick. Surely this isn't all the fault of the game]

[...But, maybe the game played a part as well]

[.........Slowly, she nods against his chest, hesitant]

[His hand comes up, gentle, to rest on her hair - to stroke through it, careful]

[A long moment, passes, and then another, and he presses a soft kiss to the crown ofher head]

[She sags back against him, managing another few quiet snuffles]

...S-sorry I was gone for so long.

[His voice is soft and unsteady and painfully earnest]

I'm just glad you're here now.

[She shudders into his shoulder, tears slipping down her cheeks once more]

H-how are you still so good? After--after everything?

[The motion of his hand in her hair doesn't slow, though he ducks his head, as though self-conscious]

I mean... I dunno about that. I'm just, like - doing the best I can. Same as anyone.

Your best is way better'n most people's.

[She presses closer, feeling for his heartbeat, as if in the hopes it might keep her crying under control]

H-how come you don't never get mad...or worse?

[His heartbeat is strong and steady, there beneath her hand]

You ain't never done nothing for me to get mad over.

[Her fingers curl in closer]

I-I left you...

[He curls her in a little closer, in turn]

I know how it is, after games. If you need space, you need space.

...Just means there's something wrong with me, don't it?

[Her voice is quiet and the question is rhetorical. Surely they both know the answer]

There's nothing wrong with you.

[Immediate, almost fiercely]

[He takes a breath - calms a little, for the next bit:]

Different people jsut deal with stuff different ways. That's all.

[She crumbles against him, attempting to speak but instead just weeping into his chest]

[He tugs her in a little closer, hand gentle in her hair]

...hey. Hey, I got you.

You're okay.

[She sinks against him, hands knotting too tightly into his shirt as she cries]

[His fingers comb through her hair, gentle; his other arm tucks in around her, just as soft]

[At length, he presses a small kiss to the crown of her head]

[Another shudder at that, even as she holds on more desperately, shoulders quaking]

[It's more than a few shaky breaths before she can manage apologies, but then they spill out profusely, wavery and muffled against his chest]

Hey, shh. Shh, you're okay. You don't gotta say sorry.

[He keeps up the pettings, slow and gentle, making no move to disentangle them]

[There are in fact several reasons to say sorry, though she still has some trouble explaining and breathing at the same time. She gives it a few more tries before subsiding, heavy and cool against him, as if finally calming]

[Thankfully, she doesn't seem to need to explain]

[He seems content just to hold her, until she calms and even past, fingers soft in her hair]