Comfort character

She slid down the wall into a crumbled figure hugging her knees and hiding her face between them. The walls of her bedroom felt like they were caving in on her as her heart lay open - aching, and her eyes let the tears flow.

She didn't know what to do, so her body reacted as naturally as it could - cry. Her mind was loud as thoughts ran about, her soul felt worn out, and her world seemed to teeter on the edge of collapse.

Too many instances she promised herself she won't let herself cry alone. But here she was. Once again. Terrified to be vulnerable. Ashamed to feel broken. Vulnerability. She'd rather slice her arm open than her emotions open her soul - even to the friends she hold close to her heart. Vulnerability. It was foreign, it was scary. It was a door she was kept postponing to open.

"What is it this time?" said his voice.

"I don't know..." she sobbed.

His voice was all too familiar. Comforting, if she had to be honest. He always came to her when reality and its entourage of problems paid her a cruel visit.

He put an arm around her. She shuffled closer to him.

"How does it feel?" he asked.

"It hurts inside..." she said softly, "my heart hurts, my soul hurts... And I wish it would stop..."

He brushed away the hair that fell over her face. She hid her face in his shoulder.

"I'm here now." He whispered.

"I really need you now... thank you." She said with a sob.

"If we lived in the same reality I would hold you before the tears come, and hold you till it stops hurting." He said.

"It always hurts less when you're here, it's more than what I can ask for." She snuggled into him.

"It's so unfair that someone so gentle like you is in this much pain. I wish I could fix the world for you."

"You fix everything by just being here."

He holds her close and wipes her dampened cheeks.

"There now, let it all out." He says softly.

"I just hate how I feel everything so intensely... I hate being this delicate..." She says in-between sobs.

"You're so strong to be standing here for someone who has been through so much. Delicate is beautiful."

"I just wish it didn't have to hurt this bad..."

"I know how much it hurts, I wish it didn't have to be you." He whispered.

"I'm so glad I have you. You make it all hurt less."

"I'm glad I could be here. I just wish I could be here as often as I could."

"Two different realities - it's the small price we pay."

He pulls her closer.

"Your soul is too precious to hurt this much."

"You're the only one who understands it. That's why it hurts less when you're here."

She wraps her arms around him. Everything about him - his voice, his presence, his smell - it was simply two things for her: familiar and comforting. Vulnerability. It was familiar, it was comforting. That's how it felt with him. To be understood, to be heard, to be seen - it was all there when she was with him. To have him next to her felt like being the moon on the beach on a calm night - silent, beautiful, and gentle. Just existing, being; unashamed and whole.

He strokes his hand up and down her arm, dropping his head on top of hers. They were a huddled figure of arms and legs and warmth. She feels herself calm down next to him, and her heart was slowly letting go of the hurt it held on in a tight fist. It was quiet, and quietness never felt so comforting and safe to her as it did when he was there.

He looks over to her shelf of books and sees her copy of 'Persuasion', standing out of the many other books with its many tabbed pages and creases along the spine.

"I think I have something that would help you feel better whenever I'm not around." He said.

"What is it?" She asked.

He pulls out a small, battered copy of 'Anne of Green Gables'.

"She's probably the one person who reminds me of you. You're just like her - so full of life, so inquisitive, so pure." He said.

"It's your favourite book."

"Now you know why."

He gently keeps it on her lap.

"It's mine, and you can have it. So you will always remember who you are, and why you are so worthy of love. So much more worthy than the pain the world gives you."

She traces her finger along its spine.

"Such is a beautiful thought.... thank you."

"Books always have their way with things."

She looks up at him and smiles, he glances over at her and returns it.

"Books were the first to make me feel seen, understood, and make me realize that I'm not alone in this world being who I am." She said, holding the copy close to her chest.

"They remind you that there are people like you who make the world so magical and wonderful."

"And people who can make you feel less alone and understood."

"It's beyond any joy when you realize that."

She rests her head on his shoulder. He holds her close for as long as he could.

She lifts her head from her knees. She sniffs and wipes her eyes with back of her hand. A copy of a favourite book sits on her lap.

The room stands still. The curtains that were pulled close hang slightly apart, a cool wind blows in through the half-opened window, gently brushing past the fabric.

She looks at the book on her lap, and traces its spine with her finger, and over the carved letters of its title on the old leather. She picks it up with both hands and presses it to her chest, a smile cracks across her face.