[ Bellamy understands. It's mortifying to be laid so bare, and have the weakest, most shameful aspects of oneself on display. He can't even offer a concrete solution, just an assurance that it would get better at some future point. It's hardly enough. ]
Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?
[ It's an open offer. The last person whose nightmares he'd coaxed out had been Charlotte. Her face flickers in Bellamy's mind, young and terrified, relaying private fears. It fades without resolution, but the impression that she's long since passed out of Bellamy's life is clear. ]
I like long stories.
[ His tone goes wry, self-deprecating as he references the growing pile of books waiting for him in his room. ]
no subject
Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?
[ It's an open offer. The last person whose nightmares he'd coaxed out had been Charlotte. Her face flickers in Bellamy's mind, young and terrified, relaying private fears. It fades without resolution, but the impression that she's long since passed out of Bellamy's life is clear. ]
I like long stories.
[ His tone goes wry, self-deprecating as he references the growing pile of books waiting for him in his room. ]