[ To hold her, just to hold her immediately has the tight ropes around his chest unraveling, even as her feverish forehead leans against him. Once he's there, any arguments he had against being this close simply dissolve, like they can't possibly breach the comfort her touch alone can bring. His arms are near trembling as they hold her, every effort going to keeping back the tears that want to be shed.

Oh, how he loves her.

She draws back a bit, her fingers in his shirt coaxing his eyes back open. He gives her the saddest sort of watery smile at her question, like it's sweet that she asks after what should be so obvious. ]

For...[ How does he put it? All his shortcomings, all his faults, that he couldn't be the person she deserved right now? ]

For being like this. [ His breathing catches and his gaze drops, but he goes on. ] You're the one who's sick, but I'm just so...needy, all the time. I just - I'm sorry I'm not...better than this.

[ Hadn't she told him he was whole and perfect, just as he is?

...How could she think those things, when they're so clearly untrue?

A better man wouldn't question her words. A better man wouldn't be clinging hopelessly to her. A better man wouldn't be -

Like him. ]