A little part of him wants to keep protesting -- he can't just stop, what if somebody needs him? -- but the metaphor pulls him up short.
He can picture it: his heart like a wild animal cupped in his hands, so scared and hurt that it can't do anything but tremble. Would he be so mean to an injured squirrel he found in the woods? Or ignore a fawn he heard crying for its mother? Then why do the same to your heart? he thinks. That's what Serranai means, when she says he oughta be kind to himself. It makes more sense now.
It's just -- what does a world without John even look like? For someone so used to knowing what lies ahead, it terrifies him, seeing that big blank spot where John ought to be and having no idea how to shape himself around it.
He nods. Then he scoots right next to Serranai so their knees practically touch, muffling a tiny sob in his throat, and leans against her.
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He can picture it: his heart like a wild animal cupped in his hands, so scared and hurt that it can't do anything but tremble. Would he be so mean to an injured squirrel he found in the woods? Or ignore a fawn he heard crying for its mother? Then why do the same to your heart? he thinks. That's what Serranai means, when she says he oughta be kind to himself. It makes more sense now.
It's just -- what does a world without John even look like? For someone so used to knowing what lies ahead, it terrifies him, seeing that big blank spot where John ought to be and having no idea how to shape himself around it.
He nods. Then he scoots right next to Serranai so their knees practically touch, muffling a tiny sob in his throat, and leans against her.