He lets the damn break and sobs against her, letting it out in a way he hasn't done for longer than he can remember. Even when he lost Marlon, he managed to somewhat keep it together- but it has been close then- his grief hampered by betrayal. There are no such setbacks here, his grief is real and solid and coming to the surface like a rising torrent.
He does eventually still, though- his sobs turning to sniffles as he pulls himself back together as best he can. His pieces are still jagged and wrong- he needs to take longer to put himself back properly. For now, he'll just have to settle with almost together. Clementine being here has made all the difference. Without her... well, without her he would have been a lost cause as soon as the Delta came knocking. She makes him better, stronger, just by existing around him. Felling her fingers press against him is all he needs to get as close to 'not completely and irreparably broken' as he can.
He takes a deep, shaky breath in, before pulling back a little, giving her a small, tired smile. There's an instinct to apologise- to try and hide away what he was feeling- remnants of a time when the Ericson staff made broken kids feel worse about themselves while calling it healing. He pushes it down through. He knows Clementine won't accept an apology - and rightfully so.
"Thanks," yeah, that's better. "I guess I needed that. Never really thought I'd have to deal with this kinda fallout."
His own death. You're supposed to have your ticket punched and your part in dealing with that fallout is done. You're not around to deal with the rest of it. But here he is, having died and come back (and turned in-between) and now he needs to try and figure out how a person is supposed to deal with that. And he feels guilty about feeling bad for himself- grieving his own life when his loved one has had to grieve it for real. Grieve him. How is anyone supposed to deal with any of this?
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He does eventually still, though- his sobs turning to sniffles as he pulls himself back together as best he can. His pieces are still jagged and wrong- he needs to take longer to put himself back properly. For now, he'll just have to settle with almost together. Clementine being here has made all the difference. Without her... well, without her he would have been a lost cause as soon as the Delta came knocking. She makes him better, stronger, just by existing around him. Felling her fingers press against him is all he needs to get as close to 'not completely and irreparably broken' as he can.
He takes a deep, shaky breath in, before pulling back a little, giving her a small, tired smile. There's an instinct to apologise- to try and hide away what he was feeling- remnants of a time when the Ericson staff made broken kids feel worse about themselves while calling it healing. He pushes it down through. He knows Clementine won't accept an apology - and rightfully so.
"Thanks," yeah, that's better. "I guess I needed that. Never really thought I'd have to deal with this kinda fallout."
His own death. You're supposed to have your ticket punched and your part in dealing with that fallout is done. You're not around to deal with the rest of it. But here he is, having died and come back (and turned in-between) and now he needs to try and figure out how a person is supposed to deal with that. And he feels guilty about feeling bad for himself- grieving his own life when his loved one has had to grieve it for real. Grieve him. How is anyone supposed to deal with any of this?