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"Go!" she manages to scream. Her throat hurt, but she doesn't care. Nothing was important anymore. Her head feels like it's about to explode. Her tears had long since dried up. She wrapped her arms around herself more tightly, rocking her body back and forth. She knows that he was still only a few feet away from her. She hates herself for hurting him and putting him in such an awful position. She should always be the strong one who helped him in his daily struggle. His lack of communication skills, his insecurities about his feelings towards himself and her. She supports him in every way possible and it hurts to know what it means for him to see her like this. He has come this far. He worked so hard on himself and on their relationship with her. She was there every step of the way. It was never in question. She loves him with every fiber of her heart. She cannot burden him with the sight of her so broken. No. She should be the strong one. A tiny little part of her doesn't want it to go away. This selfish part of her wants him to hold her tight, whisper sweet nonsense and bristle her hair as she cries against his chest. But she can't do that to him. He must go and leave her alone for his own good.
"Please ... go aw-w-way!" she wants to scream again, but instead it came far too weakly, interrupted by an awful lot of sobs. She has no idea when she started crying again.
Weak and pathetic. That is her. After years of medical training and experience, during med school and later during work. And it had never been too much, she never felt so overwhelmed in her entire professional life. But everything that's going on right now ... This thing that has been going on for over a year, you know ... It was starting to weigh on her. She's seen people die before. But never so many in such a short time. Never before so isolated, figuratively. It started a few weeks ago. Her mood changed. When he was with her, she was fine, she was relaxed, not thinking about the scary things that happen in the hospital. It got more intense as it affected her sleep. At first, she only had trouble falling asleep. Usually, she was gone as soon as her head touched the pillow, and he wrapped his arms around her. She took a deep breath, smelled him, and enjoyed the warmth and coziness he offered her. Lately she's been lying in their bed, listening to his breath as it evened out and he fell asleep when she just couldn't. She knows he doesn't have to breathe, but he does it for her anyway.
Not so long ago, she had the first (and to be honest, nowhere near the last) nightmare about his death. She couldn't tell what they all had been about because that was the only thing she could remember after waking up shaking all over and panting heavily. With her hands still unsteady, she turned to him. He was completely still. And wasn't breathing. She freaked out and shook him as she called his name. She knew he didn't have to breathe, but the image of him in the nightmare, when he wasn't alive excited her so much that she couldn't think clearly. His eyes shoot open, it didn't take him long to orient himself. His browns frowned in concern by the sight of her. Immediately he wrapped his arms around her, pressed his face to her neck, and kissed it lightly. His hands stroked her back in circles and he whispered her name repeatedly to reassure her that he was okay. It worked after what felt like an eternity. He would tell her later that he didn't mind holding her for as long as she needed. And he promised to keep breathing even if it wasn't necessary for him. It was the last night she managed to get back to sleep in his arms without the sleeping pills she had prescribed for herself the next day. He doesn't know about them; it would only make her look weak. She must be the strong one. He is so much more valuable than she could ever be.
Even though she yells at him and tells him to leave, Diego doesn't even think about doing what he's told. He slowly crosses the distance between them, carefully step by step. He knows her too well not to rush it. She is the most patient person when it comes to other people, especially him. But all she would consider for herself is to be perfect. From the moment he met her, Diego just knew that he would love her as long as she allowed it. For him she was perfect. At first, he was totally frustrated that she just didn’t see himself like him. But to this day he doesn't care and would always tell her how great she is, whether she agrees or not.
He sits down next to her and gently puts his hand on her back. He can feel her shudder under his touch, but she doesn't flinch. He was right in thinking that she didn't mean what she told him earlier. His heart leaps and he exhales with relief. She lets him be there for her, as she has done countless times for him. Diego shakes his head slightly. Now is not the time to think about himself. She is important now. Nothing and nobody else. He puts his other hand on her arm and carefully pulls her close until her head rests on his chest.
He speaks to her in his low, dark voice, that she loves so much, whispers her name, tells her again and again that everything will be fine. Diego feels how she relaxes through his actions, her arms find their way around his body, and she clings to him. Her sobs are slowly subsiding. He won't let go of her; that he was absolutely positive about. And that he loves her no matter what. Eventually the exhaustion overwhelmed her and dragged her into an uneventful sleep.