[He brushes her hair back, steadies his hand on her nape. His gaze is both intense and careful, watching how her features twist, how her voice trembles.]
[There it is: an out, practically gift wrapped. A solution, too; a way to never have to feel like this again. The answer should be so easy to make. But he's not thinking right and neither is she. She's scared and miserable and he's angry and miserable too. So she cups his face with her hands and smooths her thumbs over his cheeks. ]
Ask me when we're feeling better.
[because he might not want it, then. But maybe not.]
[He doesn't hesitate to bring his hand up and wrap his fingers around hers. Petre's gaze is still determined and slightly vulnerable, as if searching for an answer in her eyes before the question is even placed.]
[If not for the out of place vulnerability on his face, she'd push him to let it go. Instead she kisses his forehead again, the touch gentle and intended to be comforting. ]
[And another kiss to his forehead to punctuate that small noise. She shifts to settle back down with her head on his shoulder, arms sneaking under his own to hold him around the middle. ]
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You could come back with me.
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Ask me when we're feeling better.
[because he might not want it, then. But maybe not.]
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Would you?
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You think you could live with me?
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Yeah. I wouldn't leave you.
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[And another kiss to his forehead to punctuate that small noise. She shifts to settle back down with her head on his shoulder, arms sneaking under his own to hold him around the middle. ]
What do we do now?
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[he's never had to mourn any friendships before.]
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[''''''''friendship''''''''''']
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