He says he loves me. That's something, at least. And he's here with me right now. He wouldn't be doing that if he hated me, right? He wouldn't be walking all the way out here just to...

...respectfully tell me...

...he doesn't want to be with...

No. Stop it. Stop anticipating, stop panicking, just listen.

I blink rapidly at the last, at how lost he sounds. "There was always more to it than fighting," I offer, softly. I want to dive in and fix this, want to reassure him that everything's okay, want to anxiously deluge him with words and hope they help, but I'm trying to be what he needs right now. So I offer a thought, a small reassurance, then fall silent to leave him room to speak.