She couldn’t stop herself curling into his arms. It felt so safe there, just as if nothing could hurt her again, despite knowing how false that was. She sniffled, gracelessly, and didn’t say anything for a moment. It did help. A little. The desperate, tearing despair that had driven her up to the tower was gone, anyway, slashed through the way sunlight slashes through stormclouds.
“You don’t understand, Percival,” she whispered back, but it didn’t have the force of earlier protests. “You don’t know what I am. The things I am … you shouldn’t care so much. I’ll hurt you, I won’t even mean to, I’ll just want too much and hurt you.”
Percival half shook his head, half nuzzled closer. “Nothing would’ve hurt me more then you going through with that. I’m not a fool, Summer. I can imagine lots of possibilities.” It felt so absurd, so out of place, but he felt himself giggle between tears. “I’m very big, and very strong.” He sighed. “You can tell me what you’re so afraid to tell me whenever you’re good and ready, dammit. You should know that I’m ready, though.” He breathed her in and out, trying to calm himself, but couldn’t keep from imagining what might’ve happened had he not come when he had, and sobs wracked his body. He pulled her closer to him and further from the ledge. I’m going to hold you for as long as I can…
“You shouldn’t, you shouldn’t,” she couldn’t stop repeating, through her own sobs. He held her tighter, but she didn’t want to protest; the feeling of being safe was far too welcome. She wished with all her heart she could believe that this would last beyond his fright at her desperate idea, but past experience told her differently. Once he was past the immediate fear, things would go back to the way they always were, and she would be alone again.
Still.
She clung to him, to that strong body wrapped around her own, and cried until her nose was red and her throat was raw. “Why?” she managed to ask, somewhere in there.