He words things carefully, trying to get out the feelings if nothing else.

Rogue listens between the jokes, the silences, the whispered confessions: all the words they say. Lines of emotion, not always so clearly drawn.

She sees the words in his eyes, feels them in his tender embrace, wonders sometimes what keeps them trapped inside him so they can’t escape.

She says the words to him and runs her fingers gently through his long hair, combing the soft, messy strands of auburn. "Remy, I love you."

He sighs and buries his face against her.

He cannot say the words.