He could feel the cold, hard brick wall on his back and it was a refreshing change from the heat of his blood pumping through his veins, surging with adrenaline and fear (and maybe something else). His shoulder hurt, both from being pressed against the wall and from bending around at an angle (but he didn't mind). His heart was pounding beneath his rib cage and his breath came out in ragged, uneven breaths (then again so did hers). The silence is eerie until suddenly it's not so quiet and he can hear footsteps (her hand grips his arm just a little bit tighter). He thinks for a second that they're coming for him, for her – for them – as the sounds echo off the empty halls (and he hears her swallow just a little bit loud). And for a moment, just a moment, he asks himself what he would do if they set foot through the door (but he already knows). He asks himself, would I still be willing to put my life on the line for this girl (and he would). It's a fleeting question as his arm tightens around her and the footsteps fade, but he questions himself why? (The answer is so automatic it makes a lump form in his throat) Because he cares about her. He always has, and he always would (but is that really all there is?) He doesn't answer the last question though as the lights flicker on and he pushes it into the back of his thoughts (because now is not the time to admit he still loves her) And when she says it's okay, he tells her it's not and he holds onto her for just a minute longer (so maybe he can pretend they are).