we don't even ask for happiness; just a little less pain
He hears her out, sipping his tea and trying both to ignore the feel of their fingers wrapped together, but also imprint it in his mind to draw off when he next feels so desperately alone. "I haven't been going to see Falke for a while," he confesses, unconsciously drawing out one of the things he can deal with now. "He disappeared, and I... I suppose I just didn't pick it back up. I should make an appointment to see him." He squeezes her hand in return, a sad smile directed at the blanket in their laps.
"It is very full," he admits, peeling back the layers he's grown around himself that he might be a little more candid with Tobi. Even if it's just for now. Just for as long as she's here, anchoring him to the present with the warmth of her touch. "It's like a boiling pot, with the lid fixed on tight. Nothing to let the pressure out." He exhales deeply. "I've stopped playing," he says suddenly, obviously referring to his music. "Safrin made me strings, for my guitar. But I don't feel right about them."
"It is very full," he admits, peeling back the layers he's grown around himself that he might be a little more candid with Tobi. Even if it's just for now. Just for as long as she's here, anchoring him to the present with the warmth of her touch. "It's like a boiling pot, with the lid fixed on tight. Nothing to let the pressure out." He exhales deeply. "I've stopped playing," he says suddenly, obviously referring to his music. "Safrin made me strings, for my guitar. But I don't feel right about them."
FINN
