He doesn't know what he wants. The space to think things through, except not space at all. Maybe just the means to it. And, really, maybe there's not all that much to say, or to do.
All the things it's on the tip of his tongue to say, they're things they don't say. And it doesn't bother him. Feels like it ought to, maybe.
He tries not to think about loss. Losing her, it's not a possibility, it's an inevitability, and sometimes something happens that makes it impossible to keep ignoring.
"Dunno if it helped much," he murmurs, a non sequitur that's about the best he can do for coherent discussion. If they're gonna talk that's how it goes-- halting and uneasy. He's trying.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2017-06-24 01:35 am (UTC)All the things it's on the tip of his tongue to say, they're things they don't say. And it doesn't bother him. Feels like it ought to, maybe.
He tries not to think about loss. Losing her, it's not a possibility, it's an inevitability, and sometimes something happens that makes it impossible to keep ignoring.
"Dunno if it helped much," he murmurs, a non sequitur that's about the best he can do for coherent discussion. If they're gonna talk that's how it goes-- halting and uneasy. He's trying.