[It hurts. It hurts and they don't know what to say, can't make the words form in their throat. Fingers dig into the flesh of their arms, nails pressing hard, hard, harder into the skin and they shouldn't do that, shouldn't shouldn't but there's nothing else to do. Doesn't matter.]
N...not your fault.
[They look up again, eyes bright and wet and brow creased in worry and regret.]
no subject
N...not your fault.
[They look up again, eyes bright and wet and brow creased in worry and regret.]
It wasn't ever...your fault.