Relief surged when he gave up fighting her. She moved her hands from where she'd braced them and carefully, carefully set them on his waist instead. He was so, so painfully thin. Had food started tasting like dust to him, too? Her thumbs brushed against his hip bones - a half-conscious caress that did nothing to soothe the guilt in her.
"Don't want you to," she said firmly, turning her head, dipping her chin, trying to catch his eyes with hers. "Hey. Hey." She tightened her hold on his waist to try to get his attention. "I don't want you to, all right? You have to stop now."
He was actually scaring her, now. He was far, far worse off than she'd first thought -- and she thought he was pretty bad. Carefully, she stepped back and let him go, hoping that what she said got through.