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She didn't want to believe it.

She realized it as soon as she admitted it to herself - Freya was being hesitant about Kettil promising forever because she refused to believe in forever, anymore. She knew she needed him in her life, but she refused to believe he was going to love her, just like this, without ever changing or feeling different. She refused to believe anything lasted forever, anymore. And every time he refuted her, or begged her to believe in forever, she just accepted the words at face value, without letting them into her heart.

It was there, that true danger lay.

"Hooter, yeh may plans these things, but yeh don't knows.." Her face cringed in dismay. "Yeh don't knows how yeh'll feel, what yeh'll want. Just.." Her hands clung to his shoulders, shaking softly. She was scared. Scared of letting go, perhaps. Scared of believing. Scared of herself.

She reached up and started unrolling one of his dreads, falling silent. Busy work to keep her from falling apart.

Freya's hands started unrolling his hair with quicker, sharper movements. Her hands were shaking, and she had to move faster to compensate. Faster. Faster.

It was never going to be enough.

She knew exactly what he was doing. He was being Kettil. Beautiful, pure of heart, loyal, loving Kettil. Perfect, precious Kettil. He didn't even have to try, he just was. Each gentle word brushed lovingly against her heart, as it attempted to soothe away her armor. He had the power to do this, with his words.

But words could only go so far.

When he finished speaking, her hands finally stilled on his hair. They unraveled themselves, and a soft chuckle left her. She grabbed him by the shoulders, and twisted to make him turn to face her. When he could see her, her eyes had darkened, and her brow was furrowed deeply. "I'm not likes that, Kettil?" There was a dark humor to her voice. "Really? Maybe yeh should thinks about what yehr sayings, for a second. Thinks about where I was, a month ago. Thinks about where I woke up."

Nothing hurt more than saying this, to him. Every agony the Hunters and Herryk might have caused paled to this very moment, as she unabashedly reminded Kettil that she was not the perfect ghoul he kept seeing her as.

That little thread of stubbornness that made Freya blurt out the words she'd said to make him rile up on her, snapped the moment he towered over her body. There was a tiny voice piping up in the back of her mind that pointed out that she was pretty sure this was the first time she'd ever heard Kettil curse, at least like that, but she tried to keep that voice out because she had to focus, now. It was important to focus on what was happening, because Kettil was not letting up on the topic. He wasn't running away. And he definitely wasn't letting her run away from it.

He was facing it like a man.

She wanted to say no - she wanted to scream it every time he asked her a question. Her lips even formed the word, mouthing it out breathlessly. But she found she couldn't make a sound. She just laid underneath him, paling with an overwhelming sense of regret, until he pushed away from her.

She stared up at him when he moved away, and let out the breath she didn't realize she was holding.

What is past, is past. How did he do it? She wanted to embrace the present as strongly as he did. She reached out, tugged on one of his arms, and enveloped it in both of her own. She still couldn't speak, and even if she could, she wouldn't know what to say. All she could think about was one throbbing, building fear that coursed through her veins every moment he spoke.

She couldn't lose him.

For the briefest of moments, when he tugged his arm away, a wave of crippling anxiety gripped her entire body. He was leaving her. He was leaving. She'd done it again, she'd done it-

Her body came to life in a shudder of shock when his arms draped around her body, and she looked up at him, the picture of questioning surprise. Was she having a nervous breakdown and imagining he was still there, still holding her as if he wanted her? She had been two skips away from losing her mind completely, before Kettil'd saved her. Maybe the last crack had just broken her sense of reality completely.

But if that was true, then she could live her life as she imagined it. Disregard the world, and all of the pain and suffering.

And that was a nice thought.

Her arms slid under his, pulling him down against her as she lay on the couch, crumpled up in fetal position. She needed to feel him, everywhere. She needed to believe, even if it wasn't true, that she really could have him forever.

"I'm sorry." She whispered into the skin of his neck. But for once, she didn't cry. She couldn't. She had nothing to cry about.

Kettil was still in her arms.

Just like he'd always done, Kettil managed to find the perfect thing to say. He didn't apologize, because she would never be able to accept that he had anything to apologize for. He didn't tell her that she shouldn't apologize, either. He'd said exactly what Freya needed to hear in that one, perfect moment.

And in response, her head lifted, and she beamed the most brilliant of smiles at him. Her heart felt like it was going to burst with happiness.

And then a stray, funny thought crossed her mind, and her grin turned wry. "Yeh knows what?" She leaned in and kissed his nose. "I thinks we just had our first lovers spat."

She stared at him dubiously, before smirking. "Celebratings? How does yeh celebrates a lovers spat? Do we has teh wrestles for it?"

...

"Because if so, I will whoop yehr a**."

Freya's smile vanished, and her eyes glittered. "Is that.. a.. challenge..?"