[ she’s not . . . running, but seeing her tears wrenches his new gut around. to be remembered, not forgotten, and to be mourned, that may have been what he selfishly wanted for at least a little bit, but seeing it happen—
he doesn’t like seeing her heart broken a second time. there’s no amount of pleading that could give him forgiveness, he didn’t want to accept any of the sort at this point.
but the tremble in his agape lips speak for him. it hurts. it swells his heart and stings it all at once, like the inviting warmth of a fire and the delving of a blade. his hands reach out first, he inhales afterward in an attempt to speak. even as he fixes the scarf comfortably around her neck, snug and protective, he croaks before a real word comes out. ]
—Don’t cry. [ he was never able to hold her face, and tentatively, as if to see if reality wasn’t bending to his demise, to see if she was really there, his thumb corners one of the tears building in her eyes, right on top of the scar he gave her. he can feel the words come in rambles, without any thought, ] I’m sorry I . . . For everything.
[ he can’t stop himself from acknowledging the face, and resenting himself for it. ]
no subject
he doesn’t like seeing her heart broken a second time. there’s no amount of pleading that could give him forgiveness, he didn’t want to accept any of the sort at this point.
but the tremble in his agape lips speak for him. it hurts. it swells his heart and stings it all at once, like the inviting warmth of a fire and the delving of a blade. his hands reach out first, he inhales afterward in an attempt to speak. even as he fixes the scarf comfortably around her neck, snug and protective, he croaks before a real word comes out. ]
—Don’t cry. [ he was never able to hold her face, and tentatively, as if to see if reality wasn’t bending to his demise, to see if she was really there, his thumb corners one of the tears building in her eyes, right on top of the scar he gave her. he can feel the words come in rambles, without any thought, ] I’m sorry I . . . For everything.
[ he can’t stop himself from acknowledging the face, and resenting himself for it. ]