His grip tightens too. It tightens as much as he's sure it can, safely, manage. He remembers it, now. Clearer than before. Sitting on the shore, the literal loneliness ripping his scars back open again. It's better now, isn't it?
They made it.
"Got used to you once. As... long as this is the last time he has to, I think he'll be okay."
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They made it.
"Got used to you once. As... long as this is the last time he has to, I think he'll be okay."