“Don’t, don’t — ” she tried to stop him, but the words kept spilling out of him, and she flushed hotly, guilty and wretched. “Percival, don’t please. It’s not you, it’s me, I’m … I’m a bad person. I’m a liar, and selfish, and horrid. I don’t deserve to be here, I don’t deserve to be cared about. You can’t — I was born broken. You can’t fix me. Nobody can fix me.” She gulped, and the tears she’d been trying so hard to hold back started to slide hotly down her cheeks.
“I’m alone, and I’m supposed to /be/ alone.”
Percival frowned deeply, and looked right into her eyes. “No. You are an excellent person. You occasionally lie, you can occasionally be selfish, I don’t care. You do more good than bad, and even if you didn’t, it wouldn’t matter to me. You are wonderful Summer. You deserve love and comfort and joy and protection and even if you didn’t I would still give it to you. Because I want to.” He began again to move forward, but remembered she still may not have wanted him to. Water began to gather in his eyes, as well. “I want to, Summer. Can I hold you?”
She wanted to argue with him, but he believed so strongly in what he was saying it was hard to. And he didn’t know enough, he didn’t know she had magic. It would be hard to argue with him without revealing that. Nevertheless, she wrapped her arms around her shoulders, shaking her head. Soft wisps of loose hair flew around her face. “I am a liar. There are things you don’t know, things you can’t know. I don’t deserve it, Percival, I don’t.”