[She laughs softly, a little jagged, because she knows exactly what he's doing, but she doesn't know how to pull back from hurting for him without looking like she's pulling back from caring, too.]
This isn't even supposed to be about me. I'm going to be fine.
[She doesn't let go, though, just stands cheek to cheek with him, almost exactly of a height, and squeezes a little tighter. She feels oddly, unnecessarily, instinctively comforted by the hand on her back, and something burbles up inside her, raw feeling as much as much as thought, fierce and absolute: I wish you were my real family. The you is broad, Charles and Erik and Alex and Jean a little too, but she has Erik one way or another already; Charles is the centerpoint of the desire. It would matter less, maybe, how often they don't quite get on, if they had that other bond to hold through instead of just Erik and tea. She never really saw eye to eye with Magda either, not even when she was a precocious and stubborn three-year-old. But they were part of each other anyway, flesh and blood.]
spam
This isn't even supposed to be about me. I'm going to be fine.
[She doesn't let go, though, just stands cheek to cheek with him, almost exactly of a height, and squeezes a little tighter. She feels oddly, unnecessarily, instinctively comforted by the hand on her back, and something burbles up inside her, raw feeling as much as much as thought, fierce and absolute: I wish you were my real family. The you is broad, Charles and Erik and Alex and Jean a little too, but she has Erik one way or another already; Charles is the centerpoint of the desire. It would matter less, maybe, how often they don't quite get on, if they had that other bond to hold through instead of just Erik and tea. She never really saw eye to eye with Magda either, not even when she was a precocious and stubborn three-year-old. But they were part of each other anyway, flesh and blood.]