"Cyrus?" Isabella said, voice tight. "Can you hear me?"
He could.
He could also feel her hand.
She was holding his.
He had not even noticed when that happened.
Cyrus stared at their joined hands and something in his chest cracked open.
He sat up too quickly, breath shaking, tears still in his eyes, and before Isabella could react, he reached for her.
Not carefully.
Not shyly.
Not the way he usually held himself back.
He reached for her like a drowning person reaching for land.
His arms wrapped around her, his forehead pressing against her shoulder, his whole body tense with the effort of not falling apart completely. His grip was not painful, but it was desperate enough that Isabella immediately went still.
This was the first time.
The first time Cyrus had ever clung to her like this.
Not gently.
Not with quiet affection.
With need.
"Do not leave me," he whispered.
His voice was so raw that Isabella's heart almost broke on the spot.
