I have to wonder… is he crying? I can never tell. Most likely never will be able to tell. If he were a crying kind of person, he would be quiet about it, most likely only shed a few tears, wipe them away, and then kill someone to hide the fact that he had cried.

In this position, I just can't figure out what he is doing. It could be anything from him using my belly as a pillow, to him secretly wishing that I would have babies, to him trying to hear my organs function.

I maintain that he is crying, though. He isn't the kind of person to want children and I doubt he cares for my organs; the human pillow is likely – he does it often enough with everyone else – but I just don't buy it. There is no reason for him to dig his nose into my belly and hide his face if I were his substitute pillow; I know how he sleeps and this isn't one of his sleeping habits, burying his face into his comforter.

I think he's crying… but I don't say anything about it. If he is crying, I want him to cry instead of being called on it. I bet he has a lot of things to cry about, but has never had the chance to cry before.

It's a little hard to think about who he is and associate tears with him – unless, he was causing someone else to spill them. I don't know why or how or over what (if he is) he is crying (for), but I just know it.

I won't question him. I'll just stand right here, being as quiet as I can be so he can (choose to) forget that someone else is here, and let him hide his sorrow from the world (if that is what it is, which I am certain of). I won't mind his arms around my waist or how I stand between his knees, and I won't acknowledge that my shirt feels damp where his face presses against my abdomen.

I won't do anything but stand there and breathe, because, for some reason, I know that is all he wants me to do. He could easily hug a corpse anytime, but I know it isn't death he wants to cry to or over. He is fearless, and he is strong, and he is deadly – but he is still human, and humans have woes that, one day, they have to share with other humans (or animals, but the basic idea is that they're alive).

So I'll just let him get it all out, even though he never makes a sound, and then I will pretend it never happened once he is done with his tears.

He will sigh once he is done, as if he were trying to pass off the time spent in my shirt as time he had been brooding over something, and he will pull away with a bored expression, one that said that he will soon hunt down someone to terrorize to amuse himself – but that someone won't be me, at least, not for an hour or so until he completely regains himself.

He will look up at me with emotionless, abysmally dark, obsidian eyes and a thoughtless frown on his pale lips, and then he will stand and tower over me as he thinks about one thing or another (or possibly nothing at all). There will be a pause…

And then he will smile without mocking, his lips curving without twisting maniacally. "You're not so useless after all, cow." And then he will walk away without looking back.

… For five minutes, I am a human tissue and a fleshy shield from the outside world. Not for anyone, of course – that would be demeaning, like being a whore, if I gave out my time so carelessly. For five minutes, I have been (and will be) Reborn's last source of comfort.

… It is a thankless job, but his last words to me, 'You're not so useless after all' make me feel as if he had laid the world at my feet, and was willing to do so again.

For five minutes, I am the center of his shattering world. Thank goodness for small favors.