There's something in her voice that sounds like it's breaking too, like it's perilously close to tears, and he's always been a stupid - he's always cried so damn easily, curling up in the corner and sobbing into his knees until his sleeves are crusted with snot because he didn't want to ask anyone for a hankerchief, because he's not supposed to be acting like a baby anymore.
"You can cry, you can...it's okay if you..." The static freezes, spits, flickers. It's brief, but it's there - a window in which his expression is stark and cleanly visible, before the veil snaps back over the utter desolation lingering there.
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There's something in her voice that sounds like it's breaking too, like it's perilously close to tears, and he's always been a stupid - he's always cried so damn easily, curling up in the corner and sobbing into his knees until his sleeves are crusted with snot because he didn't want to ask anyone for a hankerchief, because he's not supposed to be acting like a baby anymore.
"You can cry, you can...it's okay if you..." The static freezes, spits, flickers. It's brief, but it's there - a window in which his expression is stark and cleanly visible, before the veil snaps back over the utter desolation lingering there.
"Why can't I just stop?"