I spy with my little tired eye Tiny as a firefly A pebble that we picked up last July Down deep inside your pocket We almost forgot it Does it ever miss Wicklow sometimes? Ooh...

Everyone's up to something I find myself running home to your Sweet nothings Outside they're push and shoving You're in the kitchen humming All that you ever wanted from me was Sweet nothing

He had her hands splayed out in front of him as if they were the ultimate shrine of dignity. The tips of his fingers stroked over the familiar crescent-shaped lines on her flesh as if he could pull them away from her skin and somehow ruin his own in her place. Betty winced even as he curled her palms inside and took them into his own hands because the indentations left by the intense exchange were still flaming red around the edges. Not because she was in physical agony but because of the natural recoil she had from the shame of her acts as he embraced her and forgave her at a time when she was unable to do either of those things for herself. Betty's eyes followed the slow and measured motions of his hands with full awareness of his anxious gaze on her, patient as ever despite his own mounting sentiments of failure and inadequacy festering inside. Betty knew that he was looking at her with apprehension.

As he continued to speak, she eventually let out a little sigh and slowly began to bob her head in agreement with the honesty and sincerity of his remarks. There was nothing that seemed to get under her skin more than when her intransigence met head-to-head with his own, and it was a duel unequaled by any other for any other reason but because of how profoundly they loved. Passion was evident in every facet of their relationship, and sadly, the same fire remained when it came to their disagreements as well. This was an awful reality. Betty's eyes moved slowly up the length of his figure as she became aware of the manner in which he positioned himself firmly between her and the door through which she had attempted to flee. There were occasions when she should have removed herself from the circumstance, given herself some space, or run away, but this was not one of those times. Her eyes eventually settled on his, and in spite of the embarrassment she felt about herself, she began to feel more at ease as the connection she felt after seeing him again began to calm her down.

Betty often found herself becoming lost in the white noise when he wasn't there to attach her to anything and reel her back. The noise was stripped away as the hot exchange of words and harsh tones died. When she realized that her love for him had reacted to his call with the reality of his allegation, she felt a sharp pain in her chest. Betty was as madly and irrationally in love with him as she had ever been, and this love pushed both of them to the edge of such extremes as she had been forced to watch him destroy himself right in front of her own eyes. Betty knew that every aspect of his self-loathing and poor treatment was kept inside and left to her imagination. She could only guess how hard he was on himself with no actual proof other than the varying degrees of the crease in his brow, the way his eye line refused to meet her, and the overwhelming defeat in his tone of voice. While hers so often reared its ugly head and manifested into the telltale physical symptoms such as the marks on her hands, Betty knew that every aspect of his.

"I do love you... So much." She shook her head, sensing the inadequacy of words that she often felt while attempting to proclaim her love to him in these personal times. Before she could find the words, it was his turn, and there was exasperation in his tone as he spoke her name. Betty maintained eye contact with him while simultaneously drawing the sleeves of her nightshirt down over her hands, balling the fabric into her fists, and holding her hands down by her sides as if the temperature in the room had unexpectedly fallen by ten degrees. At the same time, his hands released their hold on hers, and she felt a sudden chill from the abrupt disconnect of the physical contact that she craved desperately in her most insecure moments.

"You're quite correct, Jug, and I recognize you. Because I know you so well—in fact, I know you better than I sometimes believe I know myself—I am unable to sit by and do nothing while you bring yourself to ruin as a result of this situation. I've seen it before, and I made a promise to myself a long time ago that I would never allow it to happen again." Her eyes did not leave his for a moment, and they were blazing with passion the whole while.

She drew a long breath in and focused her attention on the task at hand, restraining herself from increasing the volume of her voice. "I will go to hell and back with you as many times as it takes because that's part of the deal," she said. "I will do whatever it takes. You can't expect to shove me aside and then expect me to leave you alone while you self-destruct because I love you, and I'm in this with you no matter what happens. I can't."