She goes over like a straw house. Easily pressed into the bed, his weight sinking her down like an overgrown pillow.

Even as miserable as she is, it brings a smile to her face. It makes her feel guilty, but - it's true, regardless. He's warm and happy with her to still seek her out and find her a comfort. No matter what she did, what she caused, he... still found some value to this little wretched body of hers, this cruel mind of hers.

And... right now - she needs this. She needs this more than she can say. She can't stand her body, at this moment, weak and feeble and rotten to its core. This empty thing Jack left behind that has no purpose but the suffering. She flitters like a petal, long past any beauty, barely hanging on to the dead cut stem. If the world breathes too hard.

But he's here. He's here. Pressing her down, holding her there. His breath, the rise and fall of his body, the way he nuzzles into a softer spot that makes wriggle so they could both be comfortable. She couldn't accept forgiveness or kind words. If he moved away or spoke, it would undo it. She just... doesn't have to try so hard, when he is keeping her broken, sharp pieces, as a shape. Not just shattered remains she slices herself apart.