[ She could be the most stoic woman right now and he still would cry, so long as she held him this close, gave him an ounce of the gentle tenderness he hasn't felt in so long. Softer touches make him fall apart much more easily, and each stroke of her fingers through his hair draws a quiet sob from him, given away mostly by the way his shoulders shake just so, and his figure coils and releases immediately after.
But he doesn't care. It feels like he's been holding onto these tears for years now (and maybe he has), and was only waiting for the perfect time to break that barrier and let them flow. And Betty's that perfect time, of course— she always is, the perfect time, the perfect place, his perfect everything, and he doesn't know how he ever thought he could live without her.
But then he was only focused on making sure she lived without him. He never really cared about himself much. ]
I'm sorry. [ For staining her shirt with tears, for making her cry too, for practically curling up in her lap until he feels like he's tiny and insignificant for anyone but her. That's sort of nice, though. He feels small but safe in her arms, like it's alright to cry here, like it's alright to feel, and to express it wholly.
He turns his head further towards her, face burying into the nook of her shoulder, a more audible cry slipping past his lips. ]
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But he doesn't care. It feels like he's been holding onto these tears for years now (and maybe he has), and was only waiting for the perfect time to break that barrier and let them flow. And Betty's that perfect time, of course— she always is, the perfect time, the perfect place, his perfect everything, and he doesn't know how he ever thought he could live without her.
But then he was only focused on making sure she lived without him. He never really cared about himself much. ]
I'm sorry. [ For staining her shirt with tears, for making her cry too, for practically curling up in her lap until he feels like he's tiny and insignificant for anyone but her. That's sort of nice, though. He feels small but safe in her arms, like it's alright to cry here, like it's alright to feel, and to express it wholly.
He turns his head further towards her, face burying into the nook of her shoulder, a more audible cry slipping past his lips. ]