Date: 2013-07-17 12:08 am (UTC)
I feel myself starting to go back together. "You're...more easily hurt than you used to be. I can look after you."

"I can look after you, too," I say stubbornly. I can now. I could normally if he'd let me, much more than I do.

"I think I do love you. I think I have for a long time."

I look at him and tug him in against me. "Thank you," I say very gently against his hair. I won't - won't be sick, or cry, or anything like that, because I won't spoil this. He means it now, he does, he does. (For a long time?) I am crying, though I didn't want to, sort of snuffling against him. "It's alright," I say, "I'm happy," and I am, it's stupid but I am. I never asked him to, I didn't. I never asked him to love me. I don't need it. I do. "I love you so much," I say thickly. I sound exactly like a child, not - whatever I am.
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