[ There's no hesitance as he's pulled towards her, settling his head against her chest and letting out a noisy, shaky breath. The hand not in hers settles somewhere in her lap, fingers splayed out against the fabric of her nightgown. He feels so unsettled, so upset by this that it all feels foolish. He feels foolish, annoying beyond that, and tired of it all besides, but taking breaths and reminding himself that they are both here in the now helps, a little.
Her tone helps to an even greater degree.
He wants to say I don't know what's wrong with me, but that is not entirely true. He knows himself to be a broken and complicated sort of thing. There's a feeling of regret that instead of being happy like any normal person here he is... doing whatever this is. Feeling sorry for himself, perhaps, or being afraid of the very thing he wanted. ]
I believe you, [ seems like an important distinction to make right now. ] But part of me doesn't understand why.
[ Not why he believes her, but why it would be true to begin with. ]
no subject
Her tone helps to an even greater degree.
He wants to say I don't know what's wrong with me, but that is not entirely true. He knows himself to be a broken and complicated sort of thing. There's a feeling of regret that instead of being happy like any normal person here he is... doing whatever this is. Feeling sorry for himself, perhaps, or being afraid of the very thing he wanted. ]
I believe you, [ seems like an important distinction to make right now. ] But part of me doesn't understand why.
[ Not why he believes her, but why it would be true to begin with. ]