HARPER
Silence does not bother him, and he lets her digest everything he has said without pressing her any more than he already has. Listens patiently as she speaks, listless and limp in his grasp. Nevertheless he persists. If he has to remain there all day then he will do so. Her gaze is dark and shuttered, and he meets it with the guileless blue of his own. "It hasn't meant nothing," he rebukes softly. "Right now yes, it feels like nothing. But every day you have existed here has had some impact. On the grass, the people you pass by, the ones you treat. Yourself. That's not nothing." Clearly she doesn't intend on listening to him about that, but he can't be exasperated with her for it. Not knowing firsthand the empty blackness of the pit that she is looking into.
"Good is temporary. But so is bad. You moved forward from your ex, from your miscarriages. This is just another terrible hour in a terrible day, and with each minute you continue breathing you are winning." Honestly he is not qualified for this, but this world isn't exactly brimming with healthcare professionals, with psychiatrists and doctors that he could gently hand her off to. Even if he talks her down, he has no way of knowing she won't be back here the moment he turns his back. It's as distressing to him as her own mindscape must be to her. "Life comes in waves. It can never be wholly good every single day. But that means it can also never be wholly bad." Sighing he turns to look out over the mist below, not sure what else he can say to her that will make it through.
"One night, I put a knife through my femoral artery. I was minutes from death when the organization that had killed my parents, kidnapped me, and forced me to train to kill others found me in a pool of my own blood. They brought me back. In that moment, there was no hope. I didn't have a companion like Pim, I had no friends, no contact with the outside world. I had lost my parents, the only life I'd ever known. And yet here I am." Taking a deep breath he squeezes her hand. This time more for himself than her. "I'm not trying to compare our grief. I'm not saying it's easy, moving forward. Trying again. But I can say that I'm glad I did it, or I wouldn't have met you. Wouldn't have met anyone here, and that...that has made me happy." Turning back he tries to catch her gaze, to smile weakly, eyes perhaps a tad glassy. "And I hope you make the same choice. Because dying? It's not a cure. It's just a wound you pass from yourself to anyone who has ever cared for you."
"Good is temporary. But so is bad. You moved forward from your ex, from your miscarriages. This is just another terrible hour in a terrible day, and with each minute you continue breathing you are winning." Honestly he is not qualified for this, but this world isn't exactly brimming with healthcare professionals, with psychiatrists and doctors that he could gently hand her off to. Even if he talks her down, he has no way of knowing she won't be back here the moment he turns his back. It's as distressing to him as her own mindscape must be to her. "Life comes in waves. It can never be wholly good every single day. But that means it can also never be wholly bad." Sighing he turns to look out over the mist below, not sure what else he can say to her that will make it through.
"One night, I put a knife through my femoral artery. I was minutes from death when the organization that had killed my parents, kidnapped me, and forced me to train to kill others found me in a pool of my own blood. They brought me back. In that moment, there was no hope. I didn't have a companion like Pim, I had no friends, no contact with the outside world. I had lost my parents, the only life I'd ever known. And yet here I am." Taking a deep breath he squeezes her hand. This time more for himself than her. "I'm not trying to compare our grief. I'm not saying it's easy, moving forward. Trying again. But I can say that I'm glad I did it, or I wouldn't have met you. Wouldn't have met anyone here, and that...that has made me happy." Turning back he tries to catch her gaze, to smile weakly, eyes perhaps a tad glassy. "And I hope you make the same choice. Because dying? It's not a cure. It's just a wound you pass from yourself to anyone who has ever cared for you."
lord don't let me break this, let me hold you lightly
give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly
give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly
