[ He listens with a sort of incredulity. (Did I really forget so much? Is that even possible? How could I forget you? Questions asked in a different capacity, but bearing the same pain. How much hurt have I caused you?) His fingers remain still on the tabletop, not unsteady for once, but caught like unattached anchors, instead. There's nothing they're mooring. The little white shadow had clung to the chains, and, eventually, the ships had broken free.
(It's not alright, he wants to say, but even he knows that the words won't change what's already come to pass. No guardian angel is meant to be human. No human is meant to shoulder that kind of weight.) ]
Thank you, [ is what he elects to say instead, his gaze still aimed at the table instead of upon the face that he no longer recognizes. It's another set of words meant to disguise the thread that seems to run through everything he does, these days: I'm sorry. The original words chafe, as if they were too cheap to properly hold the sentiment behind them. (He suspects that there'll never be anything quite sufficient.) ]
✘ AU
(It's not alright, he wants to say, but even he knows that the words won't change what's already come to pass. No guardian angel is meant to be human. No human is meant to shoulder that kind of weight.) ]
Thank you, [ is what he elects to say instead, his gaze still aimed at the table instead of upon the face that he no longer recognizes. It's another set of words meant to disguise the thread that seems to run through everything he does, these days: I'm sorry. The original words chafe, as if they were too cheap to properly hold the sentiment behind them. (He suspects that there'll never be anything quite sufficient.) ]