83. Dying
"Seifer..."
He's grasping onto her like someone drowning, and his eyes...his eyes.
It is like watching a man die in slow motion, from the inside.
It grabs at her heart and twists it into a crumpled ball, until there is nothing left but an empty hole in her chest, and his name dying on her lips.
He stares at her, and she can do nothing but stare back, her hands around his arm, his fingers digging into the front of her shirt and holding taut. She can't breathe, and it has nothing to do with how the collar is pulling tight against the back of her neck.
"Let me go."
Something in his face shift and changes, and he releases his hold abruptly, drawing back like the touch of fabric against his skin burns him.
He still has her heart in his hand.