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“That boy isn’t yours” Rio tells Agatha, eyes wide, and with a tone that shatters the soft comforting bubble the two of them had so briefly just shared. She needed to make sure Agatha really understands. Really gets that this boy, this “teen”, he is not Agatha’s. Not her boy.
Well, Rio wasn’t telling Agatha anything she didn’t already know in the deepest pit of her heart, but as the words leave Rio’s mouth, a feeling of cold empty despair fills Agatha’s entire body. That boy isn’t yours… Agatha dropped her arms, letting them hang like dead things at her sides, and searched Rio’s face for any flicker of falsehood, finding none. Rio stares at Agatha, regret and sadness burning into her stomach.
The familiar feeling of her heart boarding itself up hammers inside Agatha’s chest. With a final nod of acceptance, an unnatural, pained smile creeps onto her face. She finds herself walking away from Rio, and the last nail is driven in, sealing her heart away again.