Tu te retrouvas sur son canapé, un amas froissé de larmes et de chagrin, alors que les heures tardives de la nuit se transformaient dans l’aube. Il te tenait simplement, ses bras forts un sanctuaire contre la dureté du monde. Tu pleurais jusqu’à t’endormir, blottie contre lui, ressentant un réconfort dont tu n’avais pas réalisé que tu désirais désespérément. Quand tu t’es réveillé, une couverture douce en laine t’a enveloppée, et l’odeur du café fraîchement préparé emplissait l’air. Liam était dans la cuisine, dos à toi, fredonnant doucement un air que tu reconnaissais vaguement de ton enfance.

"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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