But didn't you? The cold outside and the cold within the cracking, softening walls of the little wooden shack was nothing up next to the emptiness, that numb feeling that'd started at just the tips of his fingers and nose and eventually progressed down in to steal icy nothing fingers over his heart. Frostbite wouldn't bother him; if he'd bitten his lip hard enough to bleed, he wouldn't have noticed (and he nearly did, but not quite). Because she'd remembered, after all.
And he still hadn't managed to come through.
You don't - forget someone you make a promise like that to. Right?
Not even when they were better off forgotten, it seemed, no. He'd stopped flinching from her, at least - but that was only because he'd been petrified on the spot by her words. His bare hands were bound so tightly around one another that the knuckles had gone white and the nails might leave scars without even breaking the skin; he wouldn't be putting his arms around her again, either.
"No," he answered, at length, and in his own voice. Not that it must've mattered, either way. Even if she remembered the promise in the most vivid detail, his voice had changed since then, he'd grown up, he'd turned into someone else (someone not good enough). It was all he could do, now, not to stand up and shout or tear off his helmet in nervous, desperate horror with himself. Slipping from his hoarse, affected tone didn't register in his mind at all.
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But didn't you? The cold outside and the cold within the cracking, softening walls of the little wooden shack was nothing up next to the emptiness, that numb feeling that'd started at just the tips of his fingers and nose and eventually progressed down in to steal icy nothing fingers over his heart. Frostbite wouldn't bother him; if he'd bitten his lip hard enough to bleed, he wouldn't have noticed (and he nearly did, but not quite). Because she'd remembered, after all.
And he still hadn't managed to come through.
You don't - forget someone you make a promise like that to. Right?
Not even when they were better off forgotten, it seemed, no. He'd stopped flinching from her, at least - but that was only because he'd been petrified on the spot by her words. His bare hands were bound so tightly around one another that the knuckles had gone white and the nails might leave scars without even breaking the skin; he wouldn't be putting his arms around her again, either.
"No," he answered, at length, and in his own voice. Not that it must've mattered, either way. Even if she remembered the promise in the most vivid detail, his voice had changed since then, he'd grown up, he'd turned into someone else (someone not good enough). It was all he could do, now, not to stand up and shout or tear off his helmet in nervous, desperate horror with himself. Slipping from his hoarse, affected tone didn't register in his mind at all.