[Wants to protest. Something, anything, because he knows he's just throwing himself at false hopes again, but his voice rebels and only gives a barely audible "I" in response before cracking one last time. Grip loosening, all movement ceasing, eyes closed and listening to a soft heartbeat he could never have again.]
[One beat. Then another. One more. And a voice so quiet it's almost nonexistent as to not disturb that soft rhythm in his ears.] No. It's my responsibility and mine alone... I won't have anyone help me run from it.
no subject
[One beat. Then another. One more. And a voice so quiet it's almost nonexistent as to not disturb that soft rhythm in his ears.] No. It's my responsibility and mine alone... I won't have anyone help me run from it.