"...you can't stop." it was a question, but she made it like a statement.
he sighed stubbornly, his eyes were tired and sad and broken but he looked at her still.
she knew what he felt
oh,
how she knew it full well.
her eyes were watering, her mouth felt dry.
"you'll be hurting me. please, stop—"
he interrupted her, and instead of a reply, she caught a harsh ignorance in return.
(his apathy doesn't hurt,
but the fact that he was willing to do so
does)
α
