we used to play outside when we were young & full of life & full of love
He's talking about you again, and you know it. You snort derisively at Sam's attempt at deflection, shaking your head and trying desperately to separate yourself, to not give in. You aren't an angel, you aren't a saint. You aren't anybody's hero. "That's what any decent'd bloke'd do," you reply gruffly, pointedly not meeting Sam's eyes but very slightly trying to step back, to widen the space between you.
"Y'ain't gettin' out that easy, anyway." Again you turn back down to him, staring into the traps of those eyes and willing yourself not to succumb. "Y'know what I meant. Why'd someone wanna dance with you? Care about you?" There has to be something positive he can find about himself. Nobody is that broken inside. Not even him.
Not even you.
"Y'ain't gettin' out that easy, anyway." Again you turn back down to him, staring into the traps of those eyes and willing yourself not to succumb. "Y'know what I meant. Why'd someone wanna dance with you? Care about you?" There has to be something positive he can find about himself. Nobody is that broken inside. Not even him.
Not even you.
zephyr
