[All the bad stuff.

Her heart twists in sudden memory, some gut-wrenching thing that rattles noisily off the shelf as he explains. Her hand lifts to her chest, gripping the front of her shirt as if to hold her heart inside her own body. It doesn't all come back, but she remembers him crying like she'd never seen before. She remembers the fear she felt from him as he confided in her. And the bone-deep, raw trauma of— of whatever it was that had hurt him, that he'd been holding inside for so long.

She breathes out a shaky sigh, suddenly needing a release for the tightness in her chest.] You—

[What can she say in the face of trust like that? She feels like she already put all her best words into that poem, but she presses on, clumsy but protective conviction as she leans into him and closes her eyes.] —I promise I'll stay with you as long as I can. You won't have to be alone with that stuff again. Anything you want to tell me, even if I don't remember yet— you can, okay?

[She wants to keep him safe, this boy who believed in her right from the word go. She wants to be worthy of that trust.]