Alec Hardy isn't good with words. He's good with emotions, but he can't tell anyone about them, because he's never learned the vocabulary necessary to verbalise them in a way others would understand.
Alec Hardy, however, has very expressive eyes, and when he trains them on her, the pain he is feeling on her behalf seems stronger than her own. He steadies her with his left hand on her upper arm and she's so close to crying although she wants to keep herself together until she's out of here and away from the intense way he seems to always, always be feeling for her, with her. He tightens his hold on her arm just enough to show her he's there when she swallows. She lowers her head so he won't see that her eyes are welling up despite her attempts at staying composed in front of him. She doesn't want him to worry about her in that sad and persistent way of his, doesn't want to see her pain reflected in his eyes.
He bends his knees so he can look at her face. When he notices the tears that are beginning to make their way over her cheeks despite the forced breaths she's taking, he raises his other hand and wipes those on the left side of her face away with his thumb. When he swipes at one that's making its way down along the side of her nose, she feels the warm palm of his hand come into contact with her skin. It's the single most comforting and calming sensation she's encountered in months and she sighs from the relief it brings. His hand stills at this and she freezes, too afraid of what she might see if she looked up at him. She doesn't have the strength to deal with his reaction to the fact that she's finally tearing at the few boundaries left between them.
Alec Hardy is rubbish at keeping his distance. He steps closer to her and slides his left hand around her to her back and the other spreads the cold wetness of her tears to the nape of her neck when he moves it there from her cheek. He encourages her to lean into him with a gentle tug and she follows. She's known for a while now that she wouldn't be able to withstand another offer of a hug from him, so she has tried close herself off as best as she could. Now he's pulling her into him instead of pushing her away the way he used to when they first met, and she knows that she had already lost the fight with herself when she didn't shrug off his hand the moment he touched her.
She ends up with her nose buried in the collar of his light blue shirt and the familiar scent of him fills her nose. She associates it with his unwavering loyalty and that's when she throws her arms around him and clings to her only friend for dear life. He staggers back a bit, surprised by her sudden movement, but once he's steadied himself he hugs her tightly to him and rubs slow circles into the tense muscles at the base of her neck with his thumb.
She feels his breath in her hair when he exhales in relief.
Alec Hardy isn't lonely anymore.
