[Without much fuss, warning, or ceremony, he settles next to her, arms crossed, not looking at her. Yeah, the whiplash can be a bit exhausting, he'll admit it. He's spent a lot of his life trying to not be shaken by the outside world, to be as even as possible because without it, he's not sure if he would've gotten so far.

The furious glare washes over him. His gaze remains steady, not unconcerned, but somewhere between calculating and thoughtful.]

I'm not going to ask you to open up to me, Annie. I'm asking you to let me help. I'm asking you to really trust me. I can't help you keep it together if you keep snapping at me, and that's if you want to keep it together.

[There's no judgment. After all, he can't relate to anything about her outside of deep loss and wasted youths. If she's a human galaxy, then he's just a speck of dust. But here he is, doing his damned best to make sure stars shine and don't collapse on themselves like dark holes.]