[His mouth is pinched, listening to her speak, watching her relax, sink into a pain that she knows well. She's right, of course she is, but that's not what bothers him. Really, it's a relief to have someone see him.]
[It's just that she's hurting. And why wouldn't she be? He curses himself under his breath in the next moment, scowling down at his fists clenched in his lap. This is why he doesn't feel things where other people can see; it only ends in unnecessary pain. Of course she's hurting, the same hurt he has but protracted over months, years maybe, far too long, and he's the one moping like a child.]
Yes, but . . . I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. I should be behaving better than this.
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[It's just that she's hurting. And why wouldn't she be? He curses himself under his breath in the next moment, scowling down at his fists clenched in his lap. This is why he doesn't feel things where other people can see; it only ends in unnecessary pain. Of course she's hurting, the same hurt he has but protracted over months, years maybe, far too long, and he's the one moping like a child.]
Yes, but . . . I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. I should be behaving better than this.