He's never going to want to say it. Acknowledging that reality, thinking about it, speaking the words out loud- it's all the same, a wretched thought that makes his insides twist and his heart constrict. He knows, logically, that it isn't possible- a person can't stay awake for infinite days, even with a hundred voices hissing in their head. The ring will fall silent, or he'll grow too dizzy and unable to stay upright, or his body (or family, maybe) will simply force him to pass out. Sleep will find him eventually. But he'll fight it, as long as he can.
He nods at her guess. She's right- the thought of waking up and not finding him there is terrifying. It'll bring him back to that moment when reality sunk in, the memory of being left alone in his bed when for months her face had been there to greet him each morning, with a soft smile and hands in his hair, gently urging him awake and up for breakfast, teasing him for his mumbled pleas to sleep for just a few more minutes. She'd indulged him so often.
He slept in that morning. She wasn't there.
Silently he pulls out his communicator, opening up his list of contacts. He scrolls down, stops and stares at it for a long moment, then holds it out to her, returning his gaze to his father. Even if he doesn't speak the words, his situation should become obvious once she looks and sees a name conspicuously absent from the list.]
no subject
He's never going to want to say it. Acknowledging that reality, thinking about it, speaking the words out loud- it's all the same, a wretched thought that makes his insides twist and his heart constrict. He knows, logically, that it isn't possible- a person can't stay awake for infinite days, even with a hundred voices hissing in their head. The ring will fall silent, or he'll grow too dizzy and unable to stay upright, or his body (or family, maybe) will simply force him to pass out. Sleep will find him eventually. But he'll fight it, as long as he can.
He nods at her guess. She's right- the thought of waking up and not finding him there is terrifying. It'll bring him back to that moment when reality sunk in, the memory of being left alone in his bed when for months her face had been there to greet him each morning, with a soft smile and hands in his hair, gently urging him awake and up for breakfast, teasing him for his mumbled pleas to sleep for just a few more minutes. She'd indulged him so often.
He slept in that morning. She wasn't there.
Silently he pulls out his communicator, opening up his list of contacts. He scrolls down, stops and stares at it for a long moment, then holds it out to her, returning his gaze to his father. Even if he doesn't speak the words, his situation should become obvious once she looks and sees a name conspicuously absent from the list.]