[The way her shoulders curve in when he answers is less like defeat and more like she's drawing up her remaining strength, curling around the hot bubbling regret inside her. No, it won't get easier. She's watched him for long enough. If it got easier, she would have seen it in him.
It's a stupid impulse. It's weak. He's going to reject it, push it away like he pushes away every gesture, even from his friends. And she is not a friend, is she. Not trusted, whatever he says. He's afraid.
She still lets her hand drop back, swing back toward him, held low with fingers spread wide, not a trace of red dancing between them, her other arm motionless, tight across her stomach where the stone lives now. He won't take it. But maybe it will be enough to have offered it.]
no subject
It's a stupid impulse. It's weak. He's going to reject it, push it away like he pushes away every gesture, even from his friends. And she is not a friend, is she. Not trusted, whatever he says. He's afraid.
She still lets her hand drop back, swing back toward him, held low with fingers spread wide, not a trace of red dancing between them, her other arm motionless, tight across her stomach where the stone lives now. He won't take it. But maybe it will be enough to have offered it.]