A.N.: I wrote it because I'm effing depressed. How pathetic am I? Oh well. Enjoi.

Disclaimer: I don't own them I just use them to pour unto readers my despair. =)

She turns to lay down as the tears begin their journey down her cheeks. As she rests her head on the pillow she curls into a ball feeling the void that cool air fills along her back. 3 years ago she wouldn't have done this. She wouldn't have lain on her bed crying because the face of this skull was too innocent and beautiful, because her cheeks were still chubby and she still wore pigtails and jumped rope. 3 years ago she wouldn't have longed for the connection of a companion, for the warmth of strong arms enveloping her. 3 years ago she wouldn't have wanted them to be his arms. But as she lay there, that was what she wanted. She knew he would, if she asked. She wondered if he could hear her sobs and sniffles through conjoining the door. He cared. No one else cared. Not since she was 15.

But there was the door between them. One that he tried to open but her foot on the other side kept it from opening. Then there was the door between them, that when she heard it open she had no intention of stopping or stopping the intention. He would hold her. She never spoke the words but he had still heard her plea. She felt the bed dip as he settled himself behind her and pulled the comforter up around them. His hand moved to wipe away her tears, then settled over her, enveloping her in the warmth that only he provided and she was suddenly grateful that today was 3 years later.

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