It's been so long, just like it had been so long since they'd held hands like children, that she doesn't want to move. She wants to stay like this, to pretend like nothing had ever happened, like she isn't trying to even out her breathing after losing it in front of her oldest friend.

They've both made mistakes.

She doesn't speak again after he shakes his head: just stays like that, quietly, though she sinks down slightly so they're on a more even level, her head never quite leaving his shoulder. There's nothing she can say now, so she doesn't. Just breathes.