𝐌𝐚𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐫

“ so what , you’re pushing me away before i can come to some realization i may never have ? i love you , astoria . i don’t want to explore my feelings for anyone else , i don’t to nourish anything but what i have with you . please . please —

“ stop trying to tell me what i feel , and what i need . stop trying to predict problems . ” had she not tightened her grip , she would have pulled away , from hurt , not anger . “ i know your mental health is not my responsibility , i know —

her eyes fly open , though she had seen this coming even with them closed . “ no . i don’t need time . we’re not going to make it if we separate again , ” and there she goes again , speaking and acting from a —

she can barely formulate a response , fingers tightening on the armrest , “ not …. now . ” she is doing what she would do with a patient in distress , internally coaching herself through the panic attack . naming things she can see , things —

“ i want to believe i would have . ” eventually , she supposes . she would have needed time to process all that’s traversed . “ but i would have been scared . i don’t want to hurt you , and i know that this hurts you . ” she’s staring down —

maeve chooses to sit in the furthest row , hoping he won’t be able to pinpoint her at this distance . it’s all in vain of course , he finds her easily in the sea of surgeons their eyes locking and holding . briefly and intentionally at —

she takes the glass , opening her mouth to say something and closing it on realizing she won’t look at her . won’t acknowledge her any more than she needs to . and that silence somehow feels worse than anything she could have said , worse —