[ His heels click as he takes a few steps closer, on cue as she falls. For a moment, when he is close enough, all he can do is stare down at her with wide eyes. He's so accepting of the thought when she's not there, right before him, but now? His mind is hit with a fog of dissonance. They were never truly separated, though he wonders if a part of her has learned to think that way. To feel that way. She forgot about him, after all, and she even told him she was happy as he slept.
He kneels down in front of her, setting the book aside.
Anna. Nina. They didn't have names. They'd never have names. His fingers tense at his sides, and rest on the floor instead of anywhere on her, as his eyes regain their heavy-lidded look of relaxation that they often held. ]
no subject
He kneels down in front of her, setting the book aside.
Anna. Nina. They didn't have names. They'd never have names. His fingers tense at his sides, and rest on the floor instead of anywhere on her, as his eyes regain their heavy-lidded look of relaxation that they often held. ]