First it was his hand. A simple resting palm against his covered cheek. A quiet plea for him to stay. They both knew that if he left, then he wouldn't be coming back.
Then it was the other hand. A gentle hold on his jaw. A silent cry for him not to go. It would never end. It would be a constant, never ending cycle of love and loss.
Then it was his forehead. As if it were its natural resting place to be resting upon his. A mute reminder of never spoken words. 'I love you, I love you, I love you.'
Finally, it was his lips. Soft and quivering at the fear and the pure, raw emotion. An invisible declaration. 'I will wait, I will wait, I will wait.'
The only audible response Hal got back from Barry, the last words he ever heard from his mouth, was a whisper.
"Don't."
