She drew away a little, wiping the tears from his face. Hesitantly, she asked, “Do — do you want me to go now? S-so it will hurt less?”
“I don’t want you to go at all,” he croaked out and pressed his face to her hands, kissing at the inside of her wrist, “But…but maybe it will be best…? I don’t…I can’t…it’ll be worse tomorrow, I think?”
She didn’t want to go either, making no effort to draw her hands out of his grip. “I don’t know,” was all she could say in reply, fingertips stroking his face. Her eyes closed at the feeling of his lips on her wrist. How could she leave this?