[ He may not know how to comfort her, or how to soothe the turmoil that rises up without warning, so thick and painful she thinks she could choke on it. But he's here. He's here, and his hand is still clutching hers, and even if he's said it before... even if he shouldn't have to say it again-- the way he says it, with fierce conviction, like there's no room for argument, is what helps her.
He... seems angry. Is it her imagination? She can't remember seeing Roxas like this before. Worried, yes. Serious, in a battle. But not like this.
She scrubs at her eyes one last time, blinks back the tears, because no. He doesn't need to see her cry any more today. She really has worried him, more than enough. ]
Roxas... [ It's all she says, somewhat helplessly, because there really are no words to express everything she wants to say. She'd just stumble over them anyway.
no subject
He... seems angry. Is it her imagination? She can't remember seeing Roxas like this before. Worried, yes. Serious, in a battle. But not like this.
She scrubs at her eyes one last time, blinks back the tears, because no. He doesn't need to see her cry any more today. She really has worried him, more than enough. ]
Roxas... [ It's all she says, somewhat helplessly, because there really are no words to express everything she wants to say. She'd just stumble over them anyway.
Thank you for always seeing me as me.
Thank you for caring.
Thank you for just... being. ]