[ The fledgling sign of tears in her eyes has his stomach clenching up, though perhaps it's premature. Whatever favor she has to ask of him could be as simple as fluffing her pillow, bringing her a glass of water or telling her a story, as she'd asked him to before. But there's something about the way this is predicated, with her asking him to lie next to her, to do one more favor. It doesn't sit well in his ears, but even for the way dread is creeping up on him, she knew his answer before she even spoke.
His throat is thick, but he can feel the pitter-patter of her heart against their joined hands, and it wills him onward. ]
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His throat is thick, but he can feel the pitter-patter of her heart against their joined hands, and it wills him onward. ]
Anything.
[ It's a whisper. ]