Why is it, even in the arms of another that she knows cares for her, she still feels so breathtakingly torn apart?
Even she's not sure of how long she's crying except for that fact that it's too long. There's no doubt that there's tears on his clothes now (and it occurs to her to apologize for that too) and her fingers clutching onto him as if he's the only real thing here are probably leaving wrinkles. How annoying.
By the time his speaks, her breathing has slowed and she's calmed down, even though she's refusing to lift her head from where it's resting against his chest. She can't look him in the eye yet.
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Why is it, even in the arms of another that she knows cares for her, she still feels so breathtakingly torn apart?
Even she's not sure of how long she's crying except for that fact that it's too long. There's no doubt that there's tears on his clothes now (and it occurs to her to apologize for that too) and her fingers clutching onto him as if he's the only real thing here are probably leaving wrinkles. How annoying.
By the time his speaks, her breathing has slowed and she's calmed down, even though she's refusing to lift her head from where it's resting against his chest. She can't look him in the eye yet.
She's weak in so many different ways.]
... Why... do you keep protecting me?
[Why is she so lucky?
How long before that luck runs out?]