Instead of letting her go he clasped her to his chest and blinked back the water threatening to fall past the edges of his eyes. He closed his eyes tight and whispered a thank you to whoever, or whatever was responsible for stopping her from doing something drastic. "You're not." he assured her. He'd heard of bipolar and knew what it was and how it wasn't that she was crazy it was just a chemical imbalance and even though she'd like nothing more than to be left alone he couldn't do it. He couldn't because then he'd be responsible for two deaths and one was enough. "No." no to letting go, no to leaving, no to everything that didn't involve him helping her get back on top. Hell he'd scour the streets until he found someone pushing little pink pills.
"Do you think that's all you are to me? An object, a sex slave? A concubine?" he leant back to look at her, "you must know, surely you must know you're more than that. More." he explained. "This isn't you." he looked at her broken little face.