He wasn't quite sure what made him do it. Maybe it was the way her dark curls brushed her shoulders as she shook with sobs. Perhaps it was her lips that parted open to let out her shaking breath or her dark lashes coated with tears. Maybe it was the fact that he knew exactly how she felt. He knew how she wanted to scream at the sky and demand answers, that she felt so weak and helpless and cheated. He knew that her lungs were raw from crying and she felt like she couldn't breathe anymore.
He wasn't sure why he dropped his books and ran towards her. But he knew that it felt right.
He grabbed her arms and held her as the sobs turned into words. Angry and demanding words, curses and screams. He held her as the wind blew past them. She buried her face in his shoulder while his arms wrapped around her shoulders. He wasn't sure how long it had been. He didn't care.
She looked up at him with lost amber eyes, so he spoke. He told her about his mom, her brown braids he used to pull. The day where she let him stay home from school and they went to the apple orchard together. Her soft hands and loud laughter, the way she smelled like shampoo and books. He told her about that day where all the voices sounded blurred and he wanted to die. Her tears slowly stopped as she listened to him speak. Then it was her holding him and brushing the tears away.
She didn't know what made her do it. But she knew it felt right.