[He grips at her hand still harder, even though he knows it's got to hurt--or else it's going to start hurting--and he shuts his eyes and he grits his teeth and presses his forehead against hers, hard, right up until she pulls away. Even then, he doesn't look up straight away, not even when he hears her writing--
And when he does, he smiles, small, miserable.]
I know.
[Maybe ten minutes before, he would have snarled at her, dismissed that. Maybe later he still will. His emotions feel fucking mercurial right now, unpredictable, shifting from place to place. But he grabs for her hand again, letting that steady him. Trying to make it steady him, or let it.]
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And when he does, he smiles, small, miserable.]
I know.
[Maybe ten minutes before, he would have snarled at her, dismissed that. Maybe later he still will. His emotions feel fucking mercurial right now, unpredictable, shifting from place to place. But he grabs for her hand again, letting that steady him. Trying to make it steady him, or let it.]
Thanks.