It wasn't so much that she had not spoken to him in nearly six days. This was bad, Til decided, but not the worst. Nor was it that she had not nestled her backside into the curve of his belly during the long, long nights of the last week. What is was, was this: Til felt sure that in spite of herself and her best efforts, Lee's heart was slowly moving away from him.
The first indication was how often her eyes, usually so full of intent focus, now seemed to drift somewhere up to and beyond his hairline. He could no longer hold her gaze. Even when he pleaded for her to look at him, her eyes would only shift down to his nose or the curve of his upper lip.
And his lips -they ached. Even in other days, during other fights or difficult moments, Lee would silence the silence between them with a soft and purposeful kiss. If she could not speak she would instead mouth a tiny bit of magic into his mouth, and offer Til the miracle of reassurance in this way. But tonight, this day, he'd had none of this from her and he suffered.
As the hours slipped by since their last kiss, Til found himself approaching the ledge of a frank and intense cliff of loneliness.