Cinder cradles the shattered phone in one hand–it lost the battle with the door frame all too easily–her other hand rubbing Kai's back. He needs comfort; it's been a long year.

She has nothing to say–what do you say in a moment like this?

They're graduating in just three days, and here he is, a mess, his father now only a memory.

And he is sobbing, and she can't do anything about the pain he's feeling.

Back when they first met, she was an awkward 5th grader with a fake leg and too much to prove, and not a damn idea how to do just that.

And he was a lanky but handsome neighbor whose bike had a broken chain and a bent wheel, and she was just the girl for the job.

She had fixed any broken thing he had had since then. Their whole relationship, she'd been fixing his things. His phone, his computer, his bike, his car, and his heart–when he had broken it himself thinking that he was ruining their friendship by falling in love with her.

How ridiculous he'd been for thinking she hadn't fallen in love with him, too.

But now?

She can't fix this.

There's no replacing what he's lost now, but he has to know she's here for him.

She moves a bit closer to Kai, securely wraps her arm around him. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'm so sorry. What can I do?"

"Just stay," he says. "That's enough."

She presses her forehead into his shoulder, wishing for all the world that she could feel that it actually is enough.

Kai covers his eyes with one hand. "Stars, I'm an orphan."

Cinder shakes her head. "You have Torin. He's your step-dad, but he's still your dad."

"It's not the same, Cinder."

She knows. She was an orphan once, too, though she didn't much remember that part of her life.

But at least he wouldn't get tossed around the system. If they weren't already 18, he would have had Torin. He and Kai's dad had been married for years, and Kai would have automatically been in his custody.

Foster homes could be terrible. Cinder feels some relief knowing he isn't going anywhere, though she feels selfish for it.

A moment passes, and then he looks at her. His caramel eyes are rimmed with red, swollen slightly from the crying. "That wasn't fair."

"It's fine, Kai."

"You know what it's like," he says. "It's not fair to act like you don't."

Cinder presses a kiss to his temple. "I'm sorry," she whispers in his ear. "I'm going to miss him, too. We'll get through this."

Kai rubs his eyes, mopping up the tears with the back of his hand. "I think the funeral will be the hardest part, you know? All those people telling me how sorry they are, but that's the last I'll ever hear from them."

"You'll get to see all of the people whose lives are affected by his death, too," she reminds him. "So many people cared about him."

"It just never felt real until now. The doctors told us months ago that we were out of options, but it didn't feel real."

He's crying again and Cinder is so unsure of herself. She strokes his hair. It's the least she can do, reminding him that she's still there.

But he'll get through this. He'll heal, as much as a person can after losing a parent. It feels irreparable now, but she's been there, and the pain will one day be so much less jarring. It would be cruel to tell him that, though, so she pulls him into her chest, rocks him back and forth, and lets him be damaged.

Author's Note: Do you guys remember last shipweeks, when I wrote a fic for almost every day of Cresswell, Free, and Kaider week?

Man, them were the days. (Which means that I wrote this for Kaider shipweeks, theme: Repairs.)