Você se encontrou em seu sofá, um amontoado de lágrimas e desgosto do coração, enquanto as horas tardias da noite se misturavam ao alvorecer. Ele apenas te segurou, seus braços fortes um santuário contra a severidade do mundo. Você chorou até dormir, aninhada ao lado dele, sentindo um conforto que não tinha percebido que tanto ansiara desesperadamente. Quando você se mexeu, um cobertor macio de lã havia sido colocado sobre você, e o aroma de café recém-preparado enchia o ar. Liam estava na cozinha, de costas para você, cantarolando baixinho uma melodia que você vagamente reconhecia de sua infância.

"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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