Orange: Okay, so I don't own anything in here except the actual plot. Even though no names are really said, you know who its about and that I don't own them. So on with the show folks :)

It was very surprising to look up at the doorway and see him standing there. Normally he wouldn't come over this late, but the look in his eyes conveyed that he had a reason.

"What's up?" I ask, still under the spell of the latest novel I was reading. For a moment he looked startled; shocked that I had sensed his presence in the first place. He tends to be quiet most of the time.

"…Couldn't sleep, honestly".

Reluctance. That's interesting. Is it embarrassing for him to admit that? Knowing him it is obviously. I close the novel after marking my place and pat the end of the loveseat.

"Something on your mind?" There's a strange feeling that I'll be playing therapist tonight.

"Sort of…it doesn't really seem important; actually it's stupid."

He's already gotten up from his seat even though he sat for mere seconds. My eyes start to follow him as he paces in front of me. Hmm, must be either really silly or very serious.

"Tell me." Couldn't hurt, could it?

He looks skeptical for a moment, like he's temporarily forgotten who I am and why he's here.

"Nevermind, it's pointless." Well obviously not if you say that. Turning in my direction, he looks at me and I must have been giving him a look because he suddenly sat down at my feet, put his head in my lap and sighed. He grabs my hand, kisses the palm and gently holds it to his left cheek.

This is new. Normally he'll shy away from physical contact.

Mmm, so warm.

"Are you going to tell me?" I force the question from my mouth because I just want to continue sitting like this. That wouldn't do him any good though. His eyes look up at me for a brief second, and they're glittering. It's gone now but I know I saw it.

"I don't know" His answer is muffled now for he has decided to turn his face farther into my lap, basically making him almost kissing my thigh. I begin to stroke his hair with my other hand; half surprised when he lets me.

"You know that whatever it is is not going to go away if you don't talk about it." It comes out as a sigh.

His eyes flash to me again. "I know."

Maybe he just wants to be held. Nah, this is him we're talking about, or rather thinking. Geez my thoughts are odd.

Looking down at him I notice the droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes. I always believed he was too strong-willed (or pig-headed) to cry. Suddenly a memory comes back to me and I instantly understand.

He's crying. Crying in the middle of the room. But they're not only tears of sadness. No, these tears have anger and regret laced into them. His eyes are hidden from me but I didn't need to see his eyes to know his emotions. His hands are clenched into fists so tight that his knuckles have paled considerably. He's letting out great amounts of moans and whimpers and his form will not stop shaking. He looks up at me in the door way. There is a burning in his eyes and I know that it is a burning need to make someone understand. His lips begin to move into the story of his pain. Sadness for the ones he lost, regret because he couldn't get to them in time to help them and anger for the fact that the incident had occurred in the first place.

He swears that he'll always be alone and by that point he has moved from the middle of the room to right in front of me. "I can't take much longer. It never goes away and someday I might end it. When the time comes, you'll probably know before I do."

With a brush of his lips against my cheek, he walked past me and out the door.

Coming back to my senses I jerk him away from me and he falls backwards enough to let me sit on the floor in front of him.

"No"

Grabbing him around the waist, I almost crush my face into his shoulder. "It can't happen. I won't let it"

All of this is said softly so as not to startle him. But I can still sense that he's confused all the same. "What do you—"

Immediately he cuts himself off, apparently remembering the same night that I just had. Cautiously I look up at him through my lashes, judging his reaction. He's looking down at me, slightly smiling. Why is he doing that? Wrapping his arms around my waist, he rubs his lips lightly against mine, then moves his mouth to my ear and whispers so softly but I hear him none the less.

"Thank you"