Things You Said When You Were Crying
He didn't know how to hold anyone. Had never known. Had no reason to learn. But Marie's shoulders shook in front of him as though the entire world was rumbling beneath her feet, and he thinks it must feel that way, for her. Stein doesn't think it's right of him to touch her, not really, not then. Not when she looked like the trembling leaves above her, the trees all but stripped.
But he stepped forward, anyway. She looked so fragile, then, and he had seen her demolish entire buildings to craters, before, watched, felt when she gave off sparks of electricity in the very air with each turn of her emotions. Seeing her trying to support herself against the bark of the tree, her face turned from him, attempting to clench all her sorrow inside of herself, all alone, he couldn't help but make his way to her.
With Marie, it always felt like she was the center, who he was ever-gravitating toward.
Something in his chest flopped, and he would go through a list of cardiac-related ailments that could be the cause were his head not so jumbled.
It didn't make sense that coming to her was so natural, and despite knowing that he could have been the murderer, probably was the murderer, had every ounce of evidence against him, she melted to him so easily when his hand came to the back of her head, pressing her face to his chest. If she wanted a place to hide, he would provide it.
He thinks he'd provide so much more than that, if she wanted.
She shook against him though it wasn't cold, and if he placed his hand on her back, he'd be able to catalogue each ragged breath.
"I'm sorry," he says, and the words are foreign in his mouth. He only knew comfort from watching others, from seeing shows Marie had insisted he sit with her for, from reading articles. What good would the knowledge be to him when he would barely be around anyone? When he had no one in the past who would find happiness in his touch?
But Marie had always been the exception, and what little he could give seemed to be enough. She uncurled from herself, instead leaning to him, and her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat, curled. His shirt was between her fingers as she clenched her fist, her other hand over her mouth as though to muffle her sobbing. He closed his eyes, bowing his head and hunching his shoulders as though to eclipse her from the entire world.
She was barely whispering, finally replying to what he had said, and despite how low it was, he could make out each word with startling clarity. Her voice was soft, broken, a watery call, but with determination in it despite it all.
"You didn't…do it…Don't…apologize."
He didn't know when he'd started stroking over her hair instead of simply holding the back of her head, but he furled in around her more, tangling his fingers.
And her hold on him tightened.
Hey all! I hope you're enjoying this drabble dump! I just wanted to give a big thanks to all the Anon reviewers I've gotten recently! One in particular has been asking for a certain request, and if I could, I'd like to direct any and all requests to my Tumblr, DollyPopUp! That way, I can actually reply to you! Thank you so much!