It was never supposed to be like this. It was never supposed to feel like this; like the soft, fleshy parts of his insides were being twisted and ripped out of him agonizingly slow. He was supposed to be the one who kept the level head, the one who was the solid foundation. But here he was, sitting across from her in the darkness of her room with his muscles shaking from some emotion that he doesn't care to label. Thin slivers of light cut across the plush carpet of the floor, filtering in from the streets of the Capitol. Her eyes are steady on him, but unfocused, like her brain is far off. He averts his gaze to the floor because even though she remains silent, he can tell from the sad smile traced on her lips that she's thinking of home.
For a while he listens to her breathing, patterned and slow, and tries to match his own to it, but he can't, because it only makes him feel even more like a fish out of water.
He doesn't even realize when she reaches over and slides her hand into his. It's a small gesture, meant to be comforting, and it is, to a degree. But it comes with a price that he'd been hoping to avoid, a realization that had been tugging on the back of his mind for weeks. Her one, small gesture threatens to crack him, to break the hardened veneer he'd thought he'd perfected; because the effortlessness of it all, the way her tiny hand fits into the palm of his, only makes the situation all that much worse.
He raises his eyes to look at hers – a swirling mix of green and blue, the same exact color of the foam that collects on the beach during low tide.
"Annie –"
She cuts him off with a shake of her head and he falls silent because he knows that she's right. Some things are probably better left unsaid at this point. Silent tears brim at the edges of her eyes, and with a shaky breath he reaches his free hand across, swiping one before it falls from her chin.
"You know, I just wish I'd gotten the chance to see the ocean one more time."
There's a steadiness in her voice that he wishes he could mimic in his own. "You'll see it again, when this over" But his own voice is scratchy, hoarse. She laughs, but it isn't the kind of easy laughter that bubbles up from the stomach and she shakes her head at him, because they both know better.