He rests a hand over hers, fingers curled around her own, searching her face blindly with his free hand and cupping her cheek, thumb stroking it soothingly. His heart beats calmly in his chest, even though it's made of glass, even though it shouldn't even be able to move or function at all.

He can hear her cry, yes. But he doesn't want her to— there's no reason anyway. He's fine, really.

"That's up to you, I guess... depends on whether or not you're planning on breaking my heart anytime soon."