Her words suddenly cut off with an interrupted breath when she sees that shadow spreading, and feels a brush of lips against her cheeks. That silences her as well as anything can, breath stolen from her and leaving only that same burning by her eyes, the one that comes out of that desperate, futile, and almost childish desire for everything to work out perfectly, for everyone to get their due, and for love to sustain in places where life drives cracks. Don't apologize, he says, and immediately there's another on her lips, though she bites it back, and only with people like them, she feels, can so much be built in so short of a time.

"Okay," she says, because there's nothing else to offer. No apologies allowed, and no promises feasible. Her gaze meets his, but soon splinters away as she simply nods, weaving harried fingers in her hair and fighting the temptation to turn the other way. She'll just hold her ground, she thinks.

Because the last thing she needs to feel right now is the sensation of running away.