"Please, stop... please..."

Caleb breathes heavily, whispers so tenderly and reverently, firmly and firmly stroking your back from the waist to the neck with one hand, and pressing you to himself with the other. You try to inhale more air, but you can't, and only weakly feel how your eyes sting and tears are coming.

Since Caleb's return, you have not been yourself. It is impossible to prepare for such situations. And everything that is happening now is something out of the ordinary for you. Caleb was declared dead, you, as the only close person, organized the funeral, and now he stands in front of you, filled with complete sincere affection for you, and you can't come to terms with it, get used to it. And somewhere inside, a slimy, unpleasant feeling rises, as if you are guilty, as if you deserve punishment for what happened. For daring to try to accept his death.

You should have saved him. You should have helped him. You should have...

"Don't cry... I don't want you to cry..." Caleb almost mumbles, pressing his forehead to your temple when he hears the faintest of sobs from you. "Oh, God... I beg you, my heart is breaking..."