She wants to play it cool. Play it cool like these last few weeks haven't seen her running around like a mad woman, doing everything she can to get him back. Like she's not been driving herself mad with stress and grief and loneliness. Like she hasn't just jumped him like they're together and not meant to just be friends.

But he doesn't push her away. Not until they have to breathe and that's okay, that's more than okay. Play it cool. She can play it cool. She can—

"Y-You're here."

Her voice cracks, the traitorous fucking bastard.

"You're really—" she breathes. Get it together. "You— I-I followed you, I followed you and when I got there you were— you were gone, you were just gone and you've been gone and I-I've been trying, I've been trying so fucking hard to find— find some way to get you back but now you're here—"

That's not together.