Cerulean orbs bore into him, into the doorway, and he holds his breath (not that he really needs to, not anymore) as she stares directly at him.
Maybe, he thinks to himself, maybe this time, this time she’ll see me, this time she’ll hear me. But just as he parts his lips to utter reassurance, her gaze drops, and her shoulders shudder under the weight of a burden he can’t help her carry anymore.
Guilt drips into him like the feeling of an egg running over his head, and once more he curses the curse that took him from this earth, that took Fabian, that fucked the lot of them over. He should be there, he should be able to keep her safe (not that she really needed help, mind you).
"You're a'right Vancey," he murmurs anyway, pressing his forehead to the door frame. "You'll be a'right. You're strong. You'll get through this. I know you will, love."
She doesn't answer him.
She never does.