Living on a razor's edge, danced with demons, tasted death

Despite the blatant, obvious lack of progress, he might have kept going until he completely exhausted himself if not for that soft call of his name. He feels all of the energy leave him immediately after the last punch, something raw and sharp cracking open inside his chest as the fact that they really are stuck here sinks in again.

It takes a moment from Sam's voice hitting his ears, the reverberating sound of that last hit to the wall- he has to collect himself before he goes back over to where his friend is sitting. Where his friend is just waiting to die.

His hand drops back to his side, his shoulders sagging in defeat before he finally turns away from the door and moves back to sit with Sam. He doesn't say anything at all; there's nothing to say, nothing is making this any better, any easier to handle, so he doesn't bother trying.

Instead, he just tugs Sam into a hug, hooking his chin on the other man's shoulder to be sure he can't see the tears track down his cheeks.