[ He's staring at that apology, and has no idea what to say. There are a lot of things he could say. He isn't going to say how much he cried tonight, or how terrified he is, he can't say those things. Though they'll probably be apparent when he meets. He won't say how much easier it would be, to draw back and sink into the many comforting arms of the people who have come to see him, or called him. How simple it would be to say goodbye, or that he knows this, and still can't.
He can't say "I love you" again; he says those words often already, and it would feel like abusing them, wearing them out. So what can he say? ]
no subject
[ He's staring at that apology, and has no idea what to say. There are a lot of things he could say. He isn't going to say how much he cried tonight, or how terrified he is, he can't say those things. Though they'll probably be apparent when he meets. He won't say how much easier it would be, to draw back and sink into the many comforting arms of the people who have come to see him, or called him. How simple it would be to say goodbye, or that he knows this, and still can't.
He can't say "I love you" again; he says those words often already, and it would feel like abusing them, wearing them out. So what can he say? ]
I'll see you then.