Coping
Word Count: 114
(pink)
This wasn't the first time something like this has happened, He'd show up at my door in the middle of the night, sniffling and bleary-eyed. I'd hold him until he was too tired to cry anymore and then he'd sit silently beside my desk while I finish recopying my research notes. The next day he'd fake a smile, quietly thank me, and forget that anything had ever happened.
I don't blame him, because I'm used to it, and because I know that this is how he copes with living as an empty, emotionless shell; crying to his nonexistent heart's content in my arms and then pretending it never happened.
Honestly, though, I don't mind.