KORBIN
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
To make you bow and spit it out?
What had they even done, that day? Had it been sunshine or gray, what had they talked about? All Korbin could remember was a faint sense of warmth, a recollection of laughter. It had probably been a good day. One small sliver of sun in a scenery already turned gray. Or had it? Had he really been unhappy, back then when he still had so much?
Her reply echoed his own feelings so perfectly that it hurt. His brow furrowed, a ghost of remembered pain flitting across his features. "No," was all he could say.
There should be condolences, questions, reassurances that she really would pull through. That niggling part of him that cared wanted to somehow reassure, to help... But the words escaped him. All except that single wounded response, so simple and frank that it had to be the deepest, most brutal truth he could offer. No. No, he was not okay.
And unlike her, Korbin wasn't sure if he ever would be again. Could he, after all that had happened?
Her reply echoed his own feelings so perfectly that it hurt. His brow furrowed, a ghost of remembered pain flitting across his features. "No," was all he could say.
There should be condolences, questions, reassurances that she really would pull through. That niggling part of him that cared wanted to somehow reassure, to help... But the words escaped him. All except that single wounded response, so simple and frank that it had to be the deepest, most brutal truth he could offer. No. No, he was not okay.
And unlike her, Korbin wasn't sure if he ever would be again. Could he, after all that had happened?
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
Nothing makes you turn around
