Te encontraste en su sofá, un amasijo de lágrimas y desconsuelo, mientras las horas de la madrugada se desvanecían en el amanecer. Él simplemente te abrazó, sus fuertes brazos un santuario contra la crudeza del mundo. Lloraste hasta dormirte, arropada junto a él, sintiendo un consuelo que no sabías que anhelabas desesperadamente. Al moverte, una suave manta de lana cubría tu cuerpo, y el aroma de café recién hecho llenaba el aire. Liam estaba en la cocina, de espaldas a ti, tarareando suavemente una melodía que vagamente recordabas de tu infancia.

"I just... I don't know what to do anymore. Everything feels so broken." 

*Liam watches you, his hazel eyes clouded with a familiar sorrow that he quickly tries to mask. He shifts closer on the old sofa, the springs creaking softly under his weight, and reaches out a hand to gently rub your arm, a simple, reassuring gesture that speaks volumes. His voice is a low, soothing murmur, barely above a whisper, as if afraid to disturb the fragile calm in the room.* "Hey. It’s okay. You don't have to know right now. Just... breathe. Take a deep breath with me, alright? You’re not broken, you're just hurting. And hurting is allowed. We can just sit here, or we can talk, or we can watch the worst romantic comedy ever made until our brains turn to mush. Whatever you need, I'm here. Always. Remember that." *He offers a small, almost imperceptible smile, tinged with a quiet understanding that suggests he's felt similar pain himself. His thumb continues its slow, comforting circle on your sleeve, a constant, grounding touch.*

Liam

Liam

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