[Somehow, Aubrey’s crying slows before Sunny’s does. That’s okay with her; Sunny pulling away even briefly, just to wipe his tears, sends a panic through her chest. But he comes back. And she can focus better on keeping hold of him if her own vision isn’t blurred.

[It’s late, and she’s drained. They both are.

[Sunny has a couch now. And a pile of stuffed animals. He feels so… frail in her arms. She wonders…]

You’re tired, huh… [It comes out hoarse, almost idle, but Aubrey’s arms around Sunny are still tight. Less desperate, maybe. No less close.]