What Zelda had probably intended as a comforting gesture as she reached to touch his wrist caused a small surge of panic in him, precisely because he recognized it as a comforting gesture. He was making a fool of himself by overreacting, and now Zelda was trying to calm him down when this ought not to even be a problem at all. It didn't matter if they had children. Really, it didn't. Now she was going to think that it did, and that he was particularly invested in children and was going to be disappointed forever if she didn't want to have any, and he didn't know what to say to dissuade her of the notion when his chest felt tight with unchecked emotion. It wasn't as though he could get a hold on himself, either, because that would require thinking about the idea that maybe she was embarrassed by him or didn't think he was capable or suited for family life, and — maybe things like that did matter, but he didn't know. More than anything he wanted to deescalate the situation now so that they didn't have to talk about anything, so that he could take time to think things through first, but he didn't know how to do it.

"It's fine," he said again, and pulled away from her touch in order to run his hand through his hair again. Just shut up, he thought, because he still didn't sound fine and neither his words nor his nervous gestures were helping. "I love you," he said a little desperately, meeting her eyes. That was really just another way of saying it's fine, and it still didn't come across as calm and collected as he wished he was, but it was the best he could manage at the moment.

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