Dante pulls me into a tight hug, nearly dragging me out of my safe corner. "I heard what happened," he whispers, and his body shakes. He's crying, maybe, or trying not to. He has ill memories of loved ones dying, I know. "I'm so sorry. It's not fair to you."
I don't answer, hanging limp in his grip until he lets me go. He looks down at me with a bittersweet smile. "You can be upset, you know. You deserve to cry." I don't want to, and so I curl up and turn away from him. He shouldn't pretend to know what I'm feeling. No one could ever know what this feels like.