He comes into the Pizza shack staff room that morning to find her curled up in a corner of the room, knees pulled up to her chest, head resting on her knees. He does a double take when he hears her soft sobs, because she's Emily and Emily does. not. cry. She just takes it all in and works that much harder.
And yet, he she is.
"Em?" he whispers.
Her head snaps up immediately, and she inhales deeply, rubbing her eyes with her palms. Then, she plasters a smile on her face.
Don't do that, he thinks, frowning. Don't hide from me.
But he knows that she will, because she doesn't like to appear weak, especially in front of people who need her to be strong, like him.
He walks up and sits down next to her, pulling his knees up and mimicking her position.
"What's wrong, Em?"
"Nothing," she chirps immediately, still smiling.
"Then why are you crying?"
"I'm not," she denies, but her bottom lip quivers and she turns her head.
"Emily," he sighs.
"I stubbed my ankle, okay? It hurt. That's it."
She speaks quickly, turns back to him with annoyed eyes, brings a hand up lighting fast to wipe away a traitorous tear that's escaped.
"Which one?"
"The strained one ."
He takes her chin between his thumb and index finger, examines her face with his eyes.
"And that's it? That's why you're crying?"
She tries to turn her face away again, but he doesn't let her.
"Yes," she whispers finally, but her voice breaks and her breath shakes and this time more than one tear escapes her eyes.
"It's okay, Emily," he murmurs, letting go of her chin and stroking her cheek, wiping some of the moisture away. "Don't hold it in. It's okay to cry."
She lets it out.
She begins to sob, and he gathers her up immediately, cradling her against him, rocking them back and forth, muttering sweet nothings into her ear.
"I'm stressed and tired with everything, Damon," she mumbles into his shirt. "I'm so tired and stressed ."
"It's okay, Em. I'm here. I have you."
He would always have her.
