I was sitting in his lap, giggling still from a joke he'd just told. When I opened my eyes and looked at him the giggle bubbles popped, feeling the room with silence. "Hey," I touched his cheek, "hey, are you okay?" He wasn't looking at me, more at the wall behind me. Of course he wasn't okay, what a stupid, childish question.
"Yeah," he smiled, finally looking into my eyes, "yeah, I'm okay." I cocked and eyebrow at him. He let out a shaky laugh, "as okay as I can be right now." I nodded. Grief is a really hard thing that no one ever gets over. I've lost a family member every year since I was 8. So I get it.
"What's on your mind?" He didn't answer, instead he wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his head in my shoulder. His breath was uneven. Harder than usual. "It's okay to cry," I pulled away forcing him to look at me, "I love you and I'm telling you it's okay to cry. I'm here to hold you, to hold your pieces as you break apart." I ran my thumb along his cheek and held out my arms, he hugged me again, a lot more rougher, squeezing as if I was the last bit of toothpaste he could afford. I didn't mind, this, this emotion he was feeling, The anger, the pain, the need to just have someone to hold you always, this I understood. So I held him while his soul broke into shards, cutting the inner parts of my heart.
