[Worry overlaid with guilt all over again and he can't tell if the way she's speaking, careful and gentle, is making this harder or easier. Part of him thanks it'd be easier if she was more angry with him - open, caring sincerity in discussions is hard to handle and especially to sustain without him either closing up or them getting awkward. But it's also reassuring, that she can say she's mad and doesn't make to pull away.]
An' what if what's wrong is - y'know.
[Them. He squeezes her for a second rather than saying it aloud, not quite a hug, before he levels a look that's a little more solemn.]
You don't come, either. When something's wrong.
[And he doesn't only mean that she doesn't come to him. Last time he knows of that she had a problem, she left - didn't come to anyone at all - almost died. It's in the back of his mind, lurking, but probably shows on his face anyway. The more important thing is that he suddenly wonders if she's been waiting on him to say something similar to her, when to him it's a given.]
no subject
An' what if what's wrong is - y'know.
[Them. He squeezes her for a second rather than saying it aloud, not quite a hug, before he levels a look that's a little more solemn.]
You don't come, either. When something's wrong.
[And he doesn't only mean that she doesn't come to him. Last time he knows of that she had a problem, she left - didn't come to anyone at all - almost died. It's in the back of his mind, lurking, but probably shows on his face anyway. The more important thing is that he suddenly wonders if she's been waiting on him to say something similar to her, when to him it's a given.]
Uh. Y'know you can, right.