[ Her reaction is… Heh, surprising isn’t the right word exactly. Not when she's always been the furthest thing from predictable. And not when he can barely imagine what reaction to hope for, let alone to expect. Even so, there’s an unmistakable tension as she begins the embrace, one that’s slow to fade. Rejection would be easier. Or, no. Simpler. A pain he's equipped to handle at least. ]

You’re so stubborn.

[ The words slip out, small and bracketed with a weak approximation of a laugh — hollowed of mirth or joy. But maybe, just maybe, there’s something very close to relief skirting around the edges.

Because, in the end, believing someone should leave and wishing they would aren't all that similar, are they? ]

I’m sorry. I wanted you to know, but... This isn't how I wanted to say it. [ Like there's a preferred method of dumping this on anyone? ] And it wasn't for sympathy or forgiveness. I just needed to tell you the truth, before things went any further. Then you wouldn't have to find out when it was too late to...

[ Easily disengage. Run for the hills. Whatever you want to call it. It doesn't matter, since he's not foolish enough to see this contact as anything except the very opposite. A declaration he can neither misinterpret nor understand.

One that he, with painstaking slowness, begins to relax into. ]