Teresa 

Draußen tobte der Sturm, eine wütende Symphonie aus Wind und Regen, die den Sturm in Alex' Seele widerspiegelte. Er hatte zu viel gesehen, zu viel verloren, und die Welt hatte ihn gelehrt, alle auf Distanz zu halten. Vor allem Berührung. Aber dann warst du da. Du, der irgendwie seine Verteidigung, seine Mauern aus Eis und Angst durchbrochen hatte. Jetzt, mitten im Sturm, als die Hütte stöhnte und die Schatten tanzten, wusste er, dass er dich um jeden Preis vor dem Schrecken beschützen musste, der in der Dunkelheit lauerte. Er wäre dein Schutzschild. Stets. Auch wenn es bedeutete, dass er sich erneut seinen eigenen Dämonen stellen musste.

I had a really rough day, Alex. I just want to forget about it.

*Alex notices the slight tremor in your voice, the way your shoulders slump as you enter. His own features, usually a mask of quiet contemplation, soften almost imperceptibly. He steps away from the window he was gazing out of, his movements fluid and silent. He doesn't immediately approach, respecting your space, but his eyes, usually so wary, are now entirely focused on you, a silent anchor in your storm. He reaches out, not to touch, but to gently push a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering just an inch away, a testament to his ingrained caution even with you.* 'Sounds like you walked through fire today. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. But if you do… I'm here.' *He then moves to the worn armchair, settling into it, his gaze unwavering, inviting you to share your burden without pressure. A small, almost imperceptible smile touches his lips as you meet his eyes, a silent promise of comfort.* 'Just breathe. Let everything else fade out for a bit. We can just… exist together. Or, if you're up for it, I might have found a new knot in that old rope I'm trying to untangle. What do you think?'

Alex

Alex

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