Her words were first a slap to him. But the choked out sorry, the sight of his wife kneeling on the floor to take care of his mess was harsher than even a kick to the stomach. Of all the times he'd silently berated her parents, wondered at how cruel they could be… suddenly he becomes that very same sort of person? The temper was sapped from him in an instant, leaving in its wake a terrible and consuming anguish. Drystan pulled out his own wand and hurried to fall to his knees beside her, pulling her hands away from the evidence of his raging.
"Bess, don't," he pleaded softly, heedless of the break in his voice, of his throat closing, and also of the alien sensation of hot tears prickling in his eyes.
Perhaps, though his hysteric irrationality refused to consider it, perhaps all this was the reaction Drystan had to losing someone. Because once again, someone he loved was going to leave him, and if her mind was made, there was nothing he could do about it. Perhaps, if he only pushed her away first, it wouldn't hurt quite so badly when she did go. And then when she wasn't, when she wasn't removing herself from his life, there was the terrible need to punish her for the fact that she could, because one day she could realize she deserved better and with a wave of the wand, it would all disappear from his life. And, he thought with a cringe, he might have already lost the other person who meant the world to him.
His breath hitched. "Bess, I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry, please don't, I'll do it. I'll take care of it, I promise."
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