She smiled at him as he walked past. He did not smile back, merely tapped her on the shoulder and she turned back. She followed him away from the crowds, the worried friends, and whistling jibes. They faded as the silence of their concentration sank in. His eyes, so beautiful to her, were bloodshot, his eyelids peeling beneath the eyebrow as he rubbed them so carelessly. He told her nothing, merely grabbed her to his chest and hugged her tightly, and he knew she'd hug back tighter still, confused and scared as she was. Her eyebrows tilted, eyes squinting in an understanding pose as he released her. But not immediately. He told her how upset he was, how is life had never been worse, how he missed his uncle and how it was tearing him and his life apart, crashing down around him lay the fragments of his life, and not one stayed where it was. But her. She was where she should be, she thought to herself. Can he not see, that I'm here, while his girl, where is she? But she said nothing. She didn't know what to say. She hugged him again, and whispered into his shoulder that she was there, she hadn't changed. And he hugged her back tighter, and then let her fall. Down to reality, and strode away he did. The electric jump of his walk remained, but he didn't feel the electricity she did. She turned from the spot where they'd been, at last, in pain together. She walked away. But she looked back. He didn't. I think.