[ she doesn't answer. she doesn't know how to tell him what she saw — or if she should. she's already told him so much, only to be met with stony silence or ineffectual acknowledgement, only to be burdened with the ache that came with the realization that her feelings weren't exactly returned.
why keep subjecting herself to the same painful silence? better to swallow it down, and press her forehead to his shoulder when he pulls her in a little closer. for warmth, she assumes, though it only dulls the ache of the cold where they're touching. anything exposed still feels like ice in the wind. ]
We should find somewhere to wait out the storm. It feels like it's getting colder.
no subject
why keep subjecting herself to the same painful silence? better to swallow it down, and press her forehead to his shoulder when he pulls her in a little closer. for warmth, she assumes, though it only dulls the ache of the cold where they're touching. anything exposed still feels like ice in the wind. ]
We should find somewhere to wait out the storm. It feels like it's getting colder.