Need
Her hand, smooth skin wrapped around taut muscles and fragile bones, slipped from his own.
An aggressive wind whipped her blond locks against pale cheeks: both hers and his.
Her eyes, wide and wondrous, fixed upon his, tears spilling from them.
They fell on motionless fingers: numbing.
He had yet to admit needing someone. Admission made him feel weak, reliant, powerless.
She was what kept him from fading, fading the way he was now.
The end approached; there was only agony.
And he was absolutely powerless, just as he had feared he would be.
Powerless because she owned his heart.