She was there, holding him, crawling into his space, before he had the chance to finally turn around, and he hated himself for being far too relieved. He was a fucking coward. He couldn't deal with the hurt on her face. He couldn't deal with her reaction when she understood how lost he really felt suddenly.

He had no right to feel this way. She was the one suffering most from this story. He was just the idiot who had gotten her pregnant, and probably only because he had been too fucking lazy to check on his fertility levels lately. Now it was her who had to live with the consequences, after she had already gone through this years ago. Somehow it was easier hating himself for that than dealing with the uncertainty. Dealing with the doubt, the question what could have been.

It would have been easier if she had been pissed with him.

But she wasn't, she was right there, pressing her body into his as if nothing had happened, and he could already feel that new built desperate wall inside crumble.

Why? What fucking difference did it make for him what she had decided? He was a weak sentimental idiot, that was all. He should be holding her now, not the other way round instead of leaning back into her embrace, keep her hand close to his face as if his lips on her skin could make any kind of difference.

And still he didn't had it in him to even turn his head.

"I don't know what's wrong with me."

His voice still sounded like he had smoked a whole package in one go, but he had to tell her, had to make her understand, somehow.

"I know what's the right thing to do and what you want, Nat, really, I..."

His hand clutched hers a little tighter and he pressed his face back into the pillows with another helpless little sob. It certainly didn't get better thinking about it. He needed to get his mind off things, that was what he had to fucking do, before he could drag her down even more.

"I feel like someone pulled the floor from under my feet."