I hugged him. He looked vulnerable and fragile, like he was falling apart and needed someone to hold him together. We stood there for what seemed ages, though surely it was only minutes, and I thought I felt him shaking. I held him for as long as he needed me to.
Afterwards, he was quiet. Quiet for him, that is. He told me what they'd done, but when I tried to cheer him with just a word or two, he fearfully said, "Don't."
I didn't, and soon, perhaps too soon, he was himself again.
Or at least he was alright.