( one way or another their conversations always seem to spiral back down to the heavy truth that's waiting in the pit of her sternum, staring her in the eye every time he looks back at her. he has to go. and he will, he always will, but it's too difficult to consider the fact that these little pieces of stolen time, stolen nights with him would come to an end. his question is met with silence, a saddened glaze of hues and that line between her brows she can never hide when she's upset. )

I will. ( decisive, a promise, but there's an inhale drawn like there's something else waiting, stalling at the bed of her tongue. ) Frank? ( fretting mind tangles itself around a sigh as eyes close for a brief moment; still, she can see the neon, hear the sirens in the distance, but there's a difference when he's here. when she has him close.

she doesn't want to push, doesn't want to ask for too much, doesn't know what too much is anymore between them. all she knows is that she wants to steal him a little longer; to be selfish. ) Look, I know that by morning, it all just... starts all over again. You'll be gone. I'll be here. And I understand—why you need to. ( a huff of a breath, )

I guess I just want that naivety. Even just for tonight, that neither of us have somewhere to be. To know you're safe.