[ He presses his lips into a thin line, because-- he doesn't want to say, it's okay, because it wasn't. It really wasn't. He wasn't just worried, he was frightened nearly out of his mind, and panicked, and he felt so, so sick at the sight of her, ashen and bleeding and taking labored breaths-- ]
It wasn't your fault.
[ That, at least, he means sincerely, and he reaches up to brush her hair aside, to trace the line of her cheek with his fingertips, and god, he loves her. ]
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It wasn't your fault.
[ That, at least, he means sincerely, and he reaches up to brush her hair aside, to trace the line of her cheek with his fingertips, and god, he loves her. ]
You need anything?