[ even after he's gone to fetch a washrag it still takes her several long, deep inhales before her breathing has settled back to normal. or at least, as normal as it can. every day it's grown more difficult.
her eyes are bleary when she looks up at him again, and she's quiet while he wipes her face, enduring it in a way she might never have a month ago. to be honest, his attentions are the only real comfort that she has, and though she hurts from head to foot still she allows herself to enjoy it, to take what little can bring her succor.
she sees them, the tears on his face, and gods she hates it, hates what this illness has done to both of them. he'd be so much better off if he had never met her, because worse than dying is watching someone you love die, standing by helplessly as they slip through your fingers and go somewhere you cannot follow. what will he do if she does not make it through? who will stand beside him? he's got such a warm, sensitive heart and it feels as if she's tearing it to shreds, damaging a part of him that she cannot heal.
for now, she closes her eyes and lets him work, savoring the feel of his touch and that she is lucid enough to properly appreciate it. she can't.. remember the last time she was. was it hours ago? days? how many? she speaks again after a moment, in a voice gone ragged, her eyes lidded but soft. ]
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her eyes are bleary when she looks up at him again, and she's quiet while he wipes her face, enduring it in a way she might never have a month ago. to be honest, his attentions are the only real comfort that she has, and though she hurts from head to foot still she allows herself to enjoy it, to take what little can bring her succor.
she sees them, the tears on his face, and gods she hates it, hates what this illness has done to both of them. he'd be so much better off if he had never met her, because worse than dying is watching someone you love die, standing by helplessly as they slip through your fingers and go somewhere you cannot follow. what will he do if she does not make it through? who will stand beside him? he's got such a warm, sensitive heart and it feels as if she's tearing it to shreds, damaging a part of him that she cannot heal.
for now, she closes her eyes and lets him work, savoring the feel of his touch and that she is lucid enough to properly appreciate it. she can't.. remember the last time she was. was it hours ago? days? how many? she speaks again after a moment, in a voice gone ragged, her eyes lidded but soft. ]
I gave poor Peo a fright.