[He tenses with surprise when she puts her arms around him, but she's right - he doesn't move to shove her away, or lash out, or anything. He'd never hurt her, not if he was in his right mind, and he is now, for better or worse.
So instead, he just twists to lean into it, pressing his face against her shoulder and sobbing. Later, he'll be embarrassed and apologetic, look back on it as some shameful breakdown he shouldn't have given into, but right now? This is just too fucking much, and so he cries, carefully wrapping his good arm around her waist, chest heaving violently.
He'll wear himself out eventually, but right now it feels like seventy years of torture and murder is just falling on him all at once. He can't handle this. He can't.]
no subject
So instead, he just twists to lean into it, pressing his face against her shoulder and sobbing. Later, he'll be embarrassed and apologetic, look back on it as some shameful breakdown he shouldn't have given into, but right now? This is just too fucking much, and so he cries, carefully wrapping his good arm around her waist, chest heaving violently.
He'll wear himself out eventually, but right now it feels like seventy years of torture and murder is just falling on him all at once. He can't handle this. He can't.]