[She doesn't say anything, at first. Julie stares at the wall without seeing it and fights against the hot twist of guilt in her gut that's telling her she shouldn't be shouting at him, that he's doing his best, that this isn't something he needs on top of everything else and isn't she only here because two people he cares about have died?
It wells up in the back of her throat as something unpleasant and almost solid, like a wash of copper on her tongue. She closes her eyes and pulls in a deep breath, letting it out shakily. Then, she looks at him, and she feels the corners of her mouth pull down without her consent. It's not fair. None of this is fair.
Her weight drops abruptly down on the couch beside him and her arms go tight around his shoulders as she presses her forehead into his arm. Her fingers curl into the fabric of his clothes, and she sniffs once.]
no subject
It wells up in the back of her throat as something unpleasant and almost solid, like a wash of copper on her tongue. She closes her eyes and pulls in a deep breath, letting it out shakily. Then, she looks at him, and she feels the corners of her mouth pull down without her consent. It's not fair. None of this is fair.
Her weight drops abruptly down on the couch beside him and her arms go tight around his shoulders as she presses her forehead into his arm. Her fingers curl into the fabric of his clothes, and she sniffs once.]