"Sometimes, I think you're hiding her," The prodding eyes peered into his, her hand resting on his leg, she nearly having climbed into his lap. "Let her out, maybe it'll help."

His eyes grazed the flowers; they sat—mostly—cross-legged in front of the garden. He could feel her roaming him, slowly, waiting for any sign of giving in. But he wouldn't, not then, maybe not ever. How long he could hold everything in, he wasn't sure, but he'd wait until the very last second. Very last breath. She slid away, slowly retreating back to her own position on the floor. Never ending disappointment, it's all he had to offer, but she took it with a smile.

"You're like her, you know," He mumbled. "Always asking questions with good intentions, fiery spirit inside, so much like her…I'm almost afraid—"

"I'm not leaving," Forceful, making eye contact again.

"You don't know that."

Eyes sliding close, breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, eyes open. She kept staring, never moving an inch. Breathe out.

"What's done is done, and what's to come no one knows, but right here, right now? I'm not leaving," She leaned forward, so he couldn't see her face. "Just believe me, for right now."

"Okay," He lied.