Did he want to runs? Gods, he knows he did—he does. It’s like a drug that slips into his veins. That promise of it is there, that temptation, that release. He can feel it buzzing and he wants to open his mouth again and tell her okay. Tell her that they can run away. That they can leave all of this behind. His mother will understand, he knows. His father will too. He has nothing else—no one else—beyond his siblings flung far and wide who would bother to look for him. So why not? Why not just pretend, why not just go?
Because of her.
Because she wasn’t made to leave everything behind, and he only was at his worst.
And he didn’t want to be at his worst for her anymore.
So he bites back the words that rise in his throat and just continues to smile at her, soft and quiet, even when her mood shifts and her mouth opens again. For a second, he just stares at her blankly, angling his golden head to the side and considering her. “Okay,” is all he manages to say, wondering what exactly she expects from him. Does she think that he’ll run? Or be angry? He has no right to it, even if there is a distinct jealousy that snakes through him. He squashes the ugly emotions as violently as his fears.
“Should we go find her?” he finally manages, searching her face with a frown. He doesn’t know whether it was wanted at the time or not. How she truly felt about everything that has come to pass between her and the other man, but he doesn’t care. None of it mattered—not now. He shifts a little, reluctant to leave this cocoon that they have found themselves in. This moment of peace that would be so quickly shattered, but he knows that it would end eventually. They wouldn’t be able to stay here forever.
And that was when the hard part would come.
And that was what he promised to stay through.
so as our grief falls flat and hollow upon a billion blooded seas
all our worst ideas are borrowed (you do and don't belong to me)