She crumples against his chest, feeling like she's made of so much spun sugar. That a stiff breeze would shred her to pieces right now. She buries her face in his skin, chuckling at the idea that he'd put on that blood stained shirt again, like it was nothing. Like the rest of the world was blind, not just him. Her hand reaches out to brush over the bandaged wound, smoothing the frayed edge of the tape back down gently.

"I need you," she whispers into the notch of his throat, so quiet it's barely audible and yet, with such raw power, her true meaning is unmistakable.