Cynthia cried the emotions out, clutching his chest. She stopped thinking, it made it worse. She more she thought the more guilt and frustration built up. And she was so afraid, of losing him, of messing up. And the more she thought about the moment, the flaws in the situation she saw. He'd feel her slowly calm on his chest, time was all she had needed, he was right. The burst of emotions left her spent, and the alcohol finally reached her, leaving her lips numb and head loose.<br/><br/>"I'm fucking everything up," she murmured, sniffling. She felt strangely apathetic now, it showed in her tone. "It's like... I'm sitting over myself all the time. And I see it, but I can't... I can't stop it. You deserve better and I don't know how, I don't..." He'd feel her bury deeper into him, as if trying to assure herself that he was still hers. "The words, they catch in my throat. I don't want secrets, but I'm.... afraid. And I hurt you. And I just made this all about me, god, I'm such a shitty girlfriend."<br/><br/>She pushed herself up, off him, and the room spun just a little. "This was suppose to be for you, you're not suppose to be consoling me, again. We're not suppose to be-" She made a noise of frustration. She was talking freer than she ever had with him. In the corner of her mind, she thought more alcohol was a good idea. It'd fix everything. No more secrets, right, alcohol made a fool, of anyone. She'd do that for him, and then... she didn't know what then.<br/><br/>No breaking up. Please.<br/><br/>Words caught in her throat. She reached for the spicy stuff.