[ she talks of harlan and he knows, recalls the pain of her tremble when she told him her guilt in what had happened to him, something that came about like unlucky circumstance for the person that least deserved to witness it. of course she knows all about ghosts, about seeing the things that can't be changed while grasping on the one chance of doing just that. if she didn't, she wouldn't be here.
her fingers squeeze and he peers down at their joined hands, hers smaller than his own but wrapping around like she wants to cover them whole, like she's trying to stop the ache from spilling — either his or her own.
it's in knowing that which keeps him from admitting why it doesn't make a difference, why there's nothing for him to be held back from. his eyes look up to her again, fighting through the darkness to seek out the hazel stare that's come to know him so well, and he wants to admit to her everything, to tell her how selfish he's been with her, how it's all on a timer for him, but while his lips part to speak, nothing comes out.
instead, he closes his mouth and swallows hard, letting the words shift around on his tongue. ]
Yeah, I know. [ none of it's fair. and there's a small part of that in the reason why he'd changed his deal too, like he knows that bringing them would have been against everything they'd wanted, everything they fought for. but even now, he still doesn't know how to be in the aftermath of those losses. who is he without the envoys? without quell? and soon, who will he be without those memories that made him?
if he eventually loses all of himself, who is it that marta will see right in front of her?
without a thought, he slips one of his hands free, raising it to brush back a lock of her hair, slightly messy from sleep, tucking it back against her ear as the tips of his fingers graze her cheek before he whispers. ] I saw you.
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her fingers squeeze and he peers down at their joined hands, hers smaller than his own but wrapping around like she wants to cover them whole, like she's trying to stop the ache from spilling — either his or her own.
it's in knowing that which keeps him from admitting why it doesn't make a difference, why there's nothing for him to be held back from. his eyes look up to her again, fighting through the darkness to seek out the hazel stare that's come to know him so well, and he wants to admit to her everything, to tell her how selfish he's been with her, how it's all on a timer for him, but while his lips part to speak, nothing comes out.
instead, he closes his mouth and swallows hard, letting the words shift around on his tongue. ]
Yeah, I know. [ none of it's fair. and there's a small part of that in the reason why he'd changed his deal too, like he knows that bringing them would have been against everything they'd wanted, everything they fought for. but even now, he still doesn't know how to be in the aftermath of those losses. who is he without the envoys? without quell? and soon, who will he be without those memories that made him?
if he eventually loses all of himself, who is it that marta will see right in front of her?
without a thought, he slips one of his hands free, raising it to brush back a lock of her hair, slightly messy from sleep, tucking it back against her ear as the tips of his fingers graze her cheek before he whispers. ] I saw you.