the world spins madly on

HENRY

I was waiting for something extraordinary
but as the years wasted on...

The physical comfort Oliver provides is more than enough, as Henry sinks further over the table. He feels defeated, like he lost a battle he wasn't prepared to even fight. But there's a reason he's come. He could've sent a letter back in return, or he could've ignored it entirely and let Oliver wittle away in the back of his mind. He didn't want to do any of that, though, not when he's already lost so much.

So being told that he doesn't need to say anything else about it is a weight lifted from him. For a little while, all he can do is sniffle silently to himself, wiping away at his tears before they can leave their stains.

He turns to look at Oliver, trying to meet his gaze, and his mouth opens to speak. His voice fumbles around uselessly in his throat and he cuts himself off, snapping his mouth shut and looking down again. He shakes his head. There are no words that could describe this broken-hearted feeling.

"I'm sorry. I know you left the Grounds, no doubt because of things like this," he finally says, a bitter edge to his tone, not looking at the other man. Quieter, words softer in nature, he adds, "but I needed to see your face..."

nothing ever did
unless I caused it