[ she wishes she didn't need the comfort, that she wasn't some teenage girl crying all over her — her ex-boyfriend, to put it even more childishly, but she sinks into his arms, burying her face in his chest and twisting her hands into the fabric covering his back. dimly, she thinks she should apologise: for inviting herself over, for falling apart now, perhaps even for the way everything ended, not so long ago.
instead, she croaks out a muffled agreement. ]
Yeah. [ a beat. ] Yeah, we will.
[ and despite everything, she's grateful that he's here, once again pulling her out of her head, like he has so many times before. ]
no subject
instead, she croaks out a muffled agreement. ]
Yeah. [ a beat. ] Yeah, we will.
[ and despite everything, she's grateful that he's here, once again pulling her out of her head, like he has so many times before. ]