i sit on the edge of my bed, face burried in my hands.

more than anything it's a cry for help, but i convince myself that i'm actually feeling sad enough to force the tears to well up, my breath to shorten. i'm shaking, and out of the corner of my eye, i can see him silhouetted in the doorway. i can't see his face, my eyes being too accustomed to the dark of the room.

he can see me, a huddled mess, my hair falling into my face, tears running down my cheeks into my hands.

he comes over and sits next to me, and i can smell him, i can feel him, stroking my hair, touching my hand. his meshes with mine and they sit together on my thigh. i twitch my fingers, and he closes down on them. i know that he's with me, i know that he cares. that was a test.

at this point i don't know which are my real emotions any more. i just know that i wanted him around me. i wanted his reassurance. and i knew that he wouldn't give it to me unless he was protecting me.

we sit together in the dark, the light from the hall casting shadows across the room. we've both gotten what we want.