“The best you can hope for is to go in your sleep.” Pinku slumped in her curled up position. she looked as though she'd shrink into oblivion. If only she could, she would.
Amata felt a lump in their throat that stopped any sound from coming out, and a dampness in their sinuses that kept words from coming to mind. The weight of Pinku's guilt pulled on their heart, slow beating, as though to quiet itself to a still. Enough to listen and her hers, to understand it.
The gravity of what she'd been carrying had forged itself into a formidable force; a singularity that would threaten to drag her loved ones down with it once revealed to them.
Yes, Amata certainly felt the urgent tugging of this force on their entire body, their chest, head, all of it. All they could will themself to do in its powerful pull was to sit with it. To sit with her. The only other kind thing they could possibly offer was to make good on her prayer for death's mercy. The thought flashed across their mind, like a paper bag floating on in from nowhere.
Pinku's eyes were pressed too deeply into her pale, green, misty sleeves to notice the ever so slight upward tug of Amata's lower lid, the crinkling of their expression inward, the sheer discomfort of the unconscious suggestion at assisting their close companion and confidant into dying.