[ it's not unwelcome. the thing is, she doesn't want him to think that - doesn't want to think that, either. and maybe her breath catches quietly as she pulls it in; her lashes flutter, and she turns just slightly to give him her cheek. maybe because of all those other times before, maybe because it's been so long since the last time, and she wants... one more. maybe because it's a memory, and it gives her a spark of hope - a spark that aches as it fades - because that's what this is. what's it's been.
fading. changing. drifting. and now he's right here in front of her and...
there isn't going back. she's not sure if she wants that anymore. (she doesn't, but she loves him, can love and live with the girl she was.) (she's torn; always torn, but what's done is done. what she feels now...) she steadies her breath, tries for a parting smile. ]