[She says it, and he feels himself relax a little, losing some of that bowstring tension he'd carried since before the argument even began. As she continues, he exhales a held breath, relieved and at the same time, mildly annoyed.]

Gods, stop. Stop making it all about me.

[He closes the distance at last, winding his arms around her, pulling her in tight and burying his face against the space between her neck and shoulder, his voice dropping to a quiet, tremulous sound.]

You're allowed to fight for this... you're allowed to ask for stuff, to want it. Tell me! Make demands! I gave it to you, so just keep it- don't offer it back.

[Go ahead and comfort me, he wants to say. Tell me you want this enough to not give it up, tell me I'm allowed to be selfish, tell me nothing's gonna change this feeling. It's probably too much, though. he doesn't want to give her more reason to feel guilty, and it's up to her to decide what she wants to do going forward. He just- he wants to hear it from her. That he's loved enough that for once someone won't let go of his hand.]