"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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Hannah was shocked. Noah didn't blame her. It was hard to wrap her mind about it. It was at least a little bit her fault, but maybe Noah was just genuinely nice that way. Or maybe it hadn't been her fault. No, she couldn't accept that at this point. Even if she couldn't think of how she could have changed the outcome, she felt certain that there had to be some way.

But she didn't argue.

Her fists unclenched and she exhaled heavily.

She felt extra bad for how she seemed to have made Noah feel worse. Thinking about death probably wouldn't help them.

Her voice was shaky.

"Okay."

"S-sorry."

It felt wrong to be considering thinking about happier things, but it seemed like that's what Noah needed. The problem was she couldn't think of anything.

"I uh, I wish I could just sleep for a week, y'know?"

Her ankle could feel better then, and maybe she wouldn't think about the death anymore. Of course, intellectually she knew that she probably didn't have a week to live, but she just felt so tired, so resting just sounded that much better.
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If We Could Have Tomorrow in Technicolor · Regular Wards