It was the very faintest of tensions that ran through her; would have been imperceptible if he hadn't melted into her body so completely.

Skies, he couldn't bear it… regardless of who initiated this (while asleep, it could hardly be held accountable; he'd made the waking invitation of pushing their mats together so it was really him) the idea that she didn't want it was terrible.

But if she didn't, she didn't. He wouldn't ask yet again Are you okay? because the burden shouldn't keep being on her.

For just a moment more, he closed his eyes against her hair and breathed.

Okay. She wasn't here to staunch a wound in his chest. Let her go.

He shifted and unwrapped his arm from around her—another thing that had happened in their sleep. He still couldn't bring himself to stand, but he'd released her. Thoroughly unsure if this was decency or dishonesty.