On one hand, he was desperate for her to come back. He couldn't tolerate the noise of his own mind, and whatever was about to happen had to hurry up and happen. But at the same time, he was terrified. He wanted time to slow down. He wanted to stay stuck in this limbo where she might be angry, but she hadn't left him yet. In the limbo he could pretend it was all fine, if his mind would just shut the fuck up for a minute.
And then he heard the door, and he lifted himself from where he'd slumped down on the sofa staring blankly at a book without turning a page. "Hey," he responded, perching on the edge, not sure whether to get up and run to her, or to stay still in case he frightened her by bounding about like a madman, and ending up somewhere in between the two. He wanted to start begging immediately, but he wasn't sure- maybe she wanted him to shut up and take it. Whatever it was going to be.