Sometimes you don't have to say anything.
Which is something you'd never apply to him, really.
A constant babble, noise lapping at your eardrums, screeching squaking.
I'm alive.
I'm alive.
Because if you react, if you notice that he's there, then he's still here. Hanging on.
Praise is nicer than punishment.
But punishment is better than silence.
Does the noise hurt him too?
I think it does.
The noise hurts him like the silence hurts me.
And as we fight, and I scream and words come pouring out, and he doesn't, just sits there, we understand.
A wordless understanding. Not a promise, because we both know everyone dies and everyone hurts and that nothing is forever.
But a wordless moment is sometimes all you need.