( @qvietlightâ ) Itâs the night after the miners are rescued, and Elaine canât stop thinking. About the avalanche, about the people she could have potentially lost, about losing people, about the people she has pushed away. Her heart hasnât stopped pounding in her chest since yesterday-- stuttering with the overwhelming panic of how easily she could have lost people that, despite everything, she cared so much for. What was the point of trying to push people away if it still hurt in the end-- if it hurt even more?
She thinks about Henry. Itâs the reason she canât go to sleep, the reason she paces back and forth across her home, hands wringing together nervously, gaze lingering on her front door every few seconds. The guilt was already there, in the back of her mind, but it comes to the forefront now, screaming at her. Every past conversation theyâve had-- awkward, tense, sad-- filters through her mind endlessly until sheâs at his door, clad in sweats and a winter coat, eyes brimmed red and puffy. Itâs past midnight, and she shouldnât be here, and she doesnât know what she could possibly say to him, but she is restless. She has to do something. So she knocks. Itâs a start.










